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SARATOGA; 



OB, 



"PISTOLS FOE SEYElSr.' 



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IN FIVE ACTS. 



BRO.NSON HOWARD. 



Copyright, 1870, bv Bronson Howard. 
Copyright, 1S98, hy Bronson Howard. 

( In Renewal. ) 



KEW YORK LONDON 

SAMUEL FRENCH SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER PUBLI9UER 

26 West 22d Street 89 Strand 



'20fw. 



COPYEIGHTED 

Special Notice. — The author and proprietor of " Saratoga " resenrei 
strictly to himself all right of perfonniiig the play in any part of the 
United States. This publication is for the convenience of such manaorers, 
actors, or amateurs as may have been duly authorized by the author or 
his agents to produce the drama. All oilier persons are hereby given 
notice that the provisions of the copyright laws will be rigidly enforced 
ill case thii play is performed anywhere without due authority. 



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SOEITEEY AND SYNOPSIS. 

FIFTH AVENUE THEATRE, Jan. 10, 1874.) 

ACT I. The Academy of Design on a Reception Niunx (by Duflocq; 
•xhibiting the following rare paintings, by special consent of the artists : 

" Lake Thunr Switzerland By J. A. Richards, N. A. 

" Sunset at St a" By E. MoREAN. 

" Helen of Troy" By B. F. Reinhart. 

" Iris " From Snedicors. 

The Adventure of a "Personal." The white rosebud and the blue rosette. 
An artistic effort of thirty years demolished. 

Two MCJTHS. 

ACT II.— Congress Springs at Saratoga (by Witham).— Tasting the 
waters.— A White Mountain Runaway !— and the secret of a dozen warm 
kisses. 

Two HouKS. 

ACT III. — The Wood near Moon Lake (by Roberts.)— A picnic tableau. 
[The Scene opens with a Trio, suug by Miss Fanny Davenport, Miss Minnie 
Conway, and Miss Nina Varian -seconded by Mr. Hart Conway and Mr. J. Q. 
PeakesJ. —Hunting Ducks ! ! ! and three claimants for one Bob 1 

One Hour, 

ACT IV. — Parlours at the " Union !"— Coffee and Pistols for Seven 1 1 1 

Ten Minutes. 

ACT V. — Private Parlour No. 73 (by Witham). — A Mysterious Echo 
Chamber— with a skeleton in every closet ! -A queer entanglement neatly un- 
ravelled, 

COSTUMES. 

First Act. —Full evening or opera dress. 

Second Act. — Handsome afternoon or walking dress. 

Third Act. — Summer picnic dresses. Ladies in white. Gentlemen In 
light flannel suits ; straw hats with blue ribbons, &c. 

Fourth Act. —Ladies same as in Act Third on first entrance ; all change to 
rich dinner and evening dresses before second entrance. 

Fifth Act. — Same as at end of Fourth Act. 

NOTE FOR STAGE MANAGER. 

Special Attention should be given to the climax scenes of Act Second and 
Act Third. These scenes are very effective if properly acted, and very flat if 
not properly acted. Their effect depends upon the instantaneous respon.st; of 
every actor to his or her cue. If there is a moment's hesitation on the part 
of any one the interest di-ops, and it cannot be revived. The phrases, "Go 
on, Mr. Benedict," <fec. , in Act Second, shovild be taken up with great energy 
and unction by each of the actors in succession. Near the end of Act Third 
the general movement of alJ lu the stage should be continued with e»ergy, 
until fall of cm-taiu. 

1—2 



SARATOGA. 



ACT I. 



^CT^^'E.— The Academy of Design, New lork. Eiening re- 
ception. The centre gallery. Arches E. and L. leading to 
other galleries, in which pictures are seen. Centre door 
with gallery and pictures beyond. Wide balustrade, c, 
with stairs leading up from below. Pictures on all the 
walls. JStatuary, d'c. A landscape on the side up R. 
Nearer front a portrait of a lady, loiv neck, and a picture 
to be referred to as the " Card Players.'" On the left side 
an easel ivith a picture representing a tvhite cat, dhc, appro- 
priate to Sir Mortimer's speech about " Nemesis.'' (Jn an 
easel, l. c, a large p)ainting referred to as the head of 
Cyrus the Great, and so arranged that Sackett can fait 
throught it. 

Music at rise of curtain. Guests moving to and fro. Gen' 
tlemen mostly in evening dress-suit. Ladies in opera cos- 
tumes. Home looking at j^idures ivith catalogues in their 
hands. Others jjussing through entrances a. and L. a/id 
C, and up and dozvn the stairs. The Artist with tioo 
ladies and a gentleman before ilte picture on easel L. c. '1 he 
Artist motioning in dumb shoiv, apparently pointing out 
its merits in detai'. During the cunversaiion he walks out 
with party, L., still talking to them. Ogden with a gentle- 
man pjauses lip \,.,before the white cat pjicture. Sir Mor- 
timer Mutton LEGG standing at her r. Livingston ivilh 
a gentleman jx-^^uses before the landscape up R., Major 
LuDDiNGTON S^ B\&t jows her, standing on her L. 

Ogden {coming forward with Sir Mortimer, l.). No. 
395— What is the subject of No. 395, Sir Mortimer 1 

Sir Mokt. {looking at catalogue). A-h— " Nemesis "— — by 
J. H. Dolphe. 



6 SARATOGA. [ACT 1. 

Oc-DEN. Ah ! I was wondering if that was " Nemesis " 

Nemesis is such a sweet pretty subject to iUustrate. 

Sir Mort. r. Y-e-s, that is— ah— yes— very pretty subject 
indeed — a-h — by the-way — wliat is a " Nemesis," Miss Og- 
den 1 Do you know if the catalogue didn't say this was a 

picture of — a-h — " Nemesis " 1 should have taken it for 

a — cat — watching a — a-h— mouse -and a— chair — and — 
a-h — a big piece of cheese on the table. 

Ogden. Why " Nemesis " is the name of the cat, I sup- 
pose. Sir Mortimer. 

Sir. Mort. Oh— a-h— exactly — I — a-h— never heard the 
name beft>re. 

[17ie Artist goes out with j)arty l. f. motioning as if 
talking earnestly. 

Livingston (l). Oh! whatadarlingpicture— the clouds 
are so very delicate — as fleecy — and as light as wool or— - 
or cotton, they look so very real. 

The Major (l. c). They do look rea^— remarkably like 
cotton in that respect, Miss Livingston. 

Livingston. And the water is so exactly like real water 

— it seems as though you could bathe in that little brock 

No — it isn't a brook— it's only a stone fence in the fore- 
ground. 

The Major. That's a very odd mistake. No gentleman 
could make it. I never mistook a stone fence for water in 
my life. 

Livingston. No. 273. What is the subject of this one, 
Major Whist ] 

The Major {reading from catalogue). " A Landscape " 
I should almost have expected as much if I hadn't seen the 
catalogue— tliese artists are particularly delinite in their 
choice of titles. 

[The Artist re enters ivith a lady and gentleman — 
]:>roceeds to motion before painting as before. 

Ogden (r. c). Oh! Sir Mortimer. You Enghsh gentlemen 
have travelled so much, and seen so many pictures, you must 
favour us with your criticisms as you go along, I do so dote 

on English gentle 1 mean I do so dote on pictures, Sir 

Mortimer. 

Sir Mort. (r.). Y-e-s. 

Ogden {sits c). What do you really think of this one, for 
instance 1 You mustn't be too severe on our American 
artists. 

Sir Mort. {looking at pictu?^) Well— a-h— y-e-s — I- a-h 
— strong, decidedly strong ; we can — ah — hardly compare 
American artists with Eaphc<el or Michael Angelo — parti- 
cularly when they are painting— a-h— cats. Tliis picture is 



Act I.] SARATOGA. 7 

a-h — strong — in its way. I should say that the cat, however, 
was much stronger than the mouse. 

Ogden (sits). Very appropriately so, Sir Mortimer. 

Sir Mort. And — a-h — the — ah — cheese — is — a-h — 
stronger than either. 

[The Artist walks out r. e. toith lady and gent, 
motioning as if speaking earnestly. 

Livingston. And this one, major % 

The Major. '' A portrait of a lady " {consulting his cata- 
lo^iue). Another very definite title — who would have ima- 
gined, if we hadn't seen it in pi-int, that this was a portrait 
of a lady 1 I should have mistaken her for the wife of a 
fortunate Wall Street broker ; and here is the Wall Street 
broker himself {motioning to next picture, then reading from 
his catalague). " Gentlemen playing at cards." The "gen- 
tleman " who has just played the knave, you see, has won 
the trick. Refer again. Miss Livingston, to the picture of 
the broker's wife ; there are diamonds on her breast — how 
insulted she would be if she were culled— a gamblers wife ! 
—Au revoir, Miss Livingston. 

[He bovjs easily and strolls L., the Artist re-enters 
at this 2}oint mitk two ladies from R. 1. E. He pro- 
ceeds to point out the merits of his pictures in dumb 
sliow. 

Livingston {meantime to gentleman as the Major walks 
away). Major Luddington Whist is in one of his bitter moods 
to-day. — It has been hinted in society that he is a gambler 
by profession. If that be true, he is sometimes, annoyed, 
perhaps, that other successful gamblers should secure a more 
certain footing in society. 

The Artist (l. c. enthusiastically). This has been the 
work of my life, Mrs. Turningham. I have spent years 
upon every detail. It is the head of Cyrus the Great — as 
you will see, of course, at the first glance. This noble man 

Ah, Miss Livingston ! {Detaining Livingston, ivho is 

running by ivith a gentleman.) Delighted to see you this 
evening, Mr. Alterbury.— One moment, Mrs. Turningham. 
{2'urning and detaining the lady and gentleman, ivlio had 
moved as if to leave.) Your pardon for the interruption. 
{To Livingston) Delighted to see your respected parents 
in my studio again — Christian Association building — do not 
misunderstand me — we artists merely occupy studios in the 
building — we have no other personal association with 
Christians. I was calling Mrs. Turningham's attention to 
the last finished product of my easel. This has been the 
work of my life, ladies. I have spent years upon every de- 
tail ; it is the head of Cyrus the Great^ as you see, of course, 



8 SARATOGA. [AcT 1. 

at a glance. This noble man Ah, Miss Ogden ! {To 

Ogden, ivhohas ivalked down L. with a gentleman. Sir Mort. 
strolls across up stage and looks at pictures, moving quietly 
down L. The Major, looking at pictures r., moving gra- 
diudly up.) — Delighted to see you, Miss Ogden ; mamma 
well % I was calling the ladies' attention to the last finished 
product of my easel. This has been the work of my life, 
Miss Ogden. I have spent years upon every detail — it is 
the head of Cyrus the Great, as you see, of course, at a 

glance. This noble man 

Ogden {looking at the picture on other easel, k. c). What 
is the subject of this one, Mr. Langdon — No. 78 % 

The Artist. That— a-h— a young artist— promising— but 
crude as yet — thin in colour — and he needs experience in 
drawing. As 1 was about to remark — may I call your at- 
tention, by-the-way, to a little touch of colour here ?— that 
nose was the labour of mouths. {As he goes on, the various 
couples walk awxy in different directions, strolling up and off 
at meir leisure. The Artist proceeds, intent on his jncture, 
2Jointinq out each feature with his fi,nger.) — You notice the 
cui'l of the lip ; I studied that from an old Egyptian relic- 
there are weeks of study in the curl of that lip— pride— ruyal 
dignity — military precision- a touch of cruelty. The inner 
corners of the eyes, too : do you see the world of meaning 
in the inner corner of that eye— the left eye, particularly % 
Could any one fail to recognize that left eye for the left eye 
of Cyrus the Great] You will excuse the enthusiasm of an 
artist— but this particular head is the crowning effort of my 
artistic life. Notice, if you please, the curl of the ear— do 
you not agree with me. tliat there is something peculiarly 

{Discovers that }t,e is alone and tcdking to himself; looks 

R. a7id L. indignantly, and marches out r. 1. E.) 

Sir Mort. {staring out r. 1. e.). That is a particularly 
charming young girl with her papa, in front of the picture 
of Diana at the bath— charming girl. 

The Major {coming downh.). Sir Mortimer Mutton legg ! 

Sir Mort. Major Luddingtou Whist : at your jervice, 
my dear major. 

The Major. What do you think of our American art, 
Sir Mortimer ] 

Sir Mort. I — I think — y-e-s— a-h — that is— a-h— very 
nice painting in America. {Aside, looking out r.) That girl 
has an exquisite complexion! {Aloud, to Major.) Some 
very nice painting in America {advancing). 

The Major. Speaking of art. Sir Mortimer— What do 
you think of our American ladies 1 

Sm Mort. Well — a-h — I don't profess to be much of an art- 



Act 1.] SARATOGA. 9 

critic, my dear major ; but, a-h— in regard to your American 
ladies, 1— a-li — the fact is — I've only been in America three 
weeks, and j^our American girls are the most unaccountable 
creatures. We English gentlemen can't understand them at 
all, you know, By-the-way, you don't happen to know the 
young lady standing before the picture of Diana at the Bath 
—with an elderly gentleman 1 

The Major. Oh! but I do though —one of the greatest 
belles in the city, Miss Effie Eemini>ton. Kicli, piquant, wild 
as a young hawk, an heiress too; half the fellows in JS'ew 
York are in love with her. {Limkincj off i,.) Ah! and tliere 
is Miss Virginia Vanderpool — another of our belles — with 
Mr. Cornelms Wethertree — the elderly bachelor — who lias 
made love to every niarringeable young lady within his 
reach for the last thirty years or more. 

Sib Most. She's a denccdiy charming girl! isn't she, 
major? A deuccdly charming girl. 

The Majok. The Vanderpool you mean ? Yes. a devilish 
fine girl, my dear Sir Mortimer, but very expensive tastes; 
she declines to ride behind anything less ilian three mmutes 
on the road. It will pay tlie lucky one among her admirers 
in the end, however — her father owns half a dozen railr ads, 
and a branch of National Banks. I've shufflfd the cards in 
that direction myself. I tliink it will pay in the end. 

Sir Mort. But I vias speaking of tiie otiier, my dear 
major — I referred to the Beniingtou. Charming girl. 

'J HE Major. Ciiarminii! yes. Her father is nearly as 
rich as Papa Vandei-pool himself. 

Sir Mort. But seriously I referred to the young lady's 
persona/ charms. 

The Major. And so did I. Old Remington is worth 
more than half a million — his daughter Effie is his only 
child— could anybody's charms be more 'personal" than 
that ? 

[Thejf walk up. The Major afterwards strolls out at his 
leisure. 

Enter Virginia Vandf.rpool and Wethertree, l. 1. e. 

Wethketree. The picture of "Cupid sharpening his 
Arrows " is in the west room. Miss Vanderpool — a very pain- 
ful subject to me, however. Miss Virginia — especially when 
one of liis arrows is at tliis moment — 

Virginia. Ah ! Mr. Wethertree, you know how to make 
such delightful speeches. 

Enter Mrs. Alston, e. 1. E. 

Mrs. a. Ah ! Virginia, my Icve. 

Virginia. My dear Olivia. {They meet and kis^.) 

Wethertree {i/ittinc/ r.). Upon my word, ladies, I envy 
you both, I do upon my life. 1 — 3 



10 SARATOGA. [ACT 1. 

Virginia (l.). Oh, you nau<»lity man. I was only just 
telling liim, Mrs. Alston, that he knew so well how to make 
those deli^ihtful speeches. 

Mrs. a. (c). 1 iiave frequently noticed it myself. 

Wethertree {bowing). You flatter me, ladies. 

Mrs. a. How could it be otherwise with so many long 
yeai's of experience ? 

Wfthertref. A-h-e-m {tum'mcj mvay). 

Mrs. a. Ah ! Sir Mortimer Muttonle2:g. Sir Mart. i$ 
p/isiiii(/ d'ltvn L. Miss Virj^inia Vaiiderpool — Sir Mortimer. 

Sir Mort. (l.). Ladies ! 

Mrs. a. (c). Mr. Cornelius Wethertree studyinjj American 
art and American society at the same time, my dear Sir 
Mortimer. 

Sir Mort. Y-e-s — I — a-h— find it a very agreeable — a-h 
combination — in fact — I — a-li^by-the-\vay, Mrs. Alston, 
you are a — very beautiful — a-h — combination of nature and 
art yourself. [Shr hows to him. 

Wethertree (r.). And it would require a very acute ob- 
server of both nature and art, madam, to discover wliere one 
leaves off and tlie other begins — ha ! lia ! ha ! 

Mrs. a. (afier bowing to Wethertree). Really, gentlemen — 
you are so very complimentary — allow me to return the com- 
pliment. Sir Mortimer, tliough art, perhaps, deserves the 
gr^^ater share of credit. As for yourself, Mr. Wethertree, 
nature asserts herself so strongly there — she is fast crowd- 
ing art aside. 

Wethertree. Ahom ! [Weth. turns up r. Sir Mort. l. 

Mrs. a. Virginia, love, have you decided where to spend 
the summer yet ? 

Virginia. We are going to Saratoga. 

Mrs. a. Delightful, my dear, I am going to the Springs 
also. 

Virginia. Father says we shan't, but that doesn't make 
any difference, you know. 

Enter Effie, r. 1. E. looking cautiously r. and L. 

Mrs. a. Of course not, my clear. Poor doar Alston ! he 
used to be so determined not to go to Long Branch or Sara- 
toga. There isn't half the interest in going now that I am 
a widow, and can do as I please. 

Sir Mort. [looking at Effie). Deuced fine girl. 

Wethertree {also louking at ha-). That is a magnificent 
ereature. 

Mrs. a. (seeing Effie). Why Effie dear. 

Effie. Eh — oh — how you startled me, Alston. (Kisses 
h(r.) Vanderpool, my dear. {Kisses her.) 

Wethertree. I shouldn't mind being in Mrs. Alstou'i 
lace. 



Act 1.] SARATOGA. 11 

Sir Mokt. {up stnrjr). I — a-h — rather envy Miss Van derpool. 

Mrs. a. JNot alone, my dear EfEe, at tbe reception. 
Wliore is your papa ? 

Effie. I left father disru-sing the question of pre-Ka- 
pliaelitp art. whatever tliat may be, with another old jjentle- 
man that knows as little about the subject as papa does. 
H-s- h — {Pultln;/ her hands to her lips mysterianslt/, then 
takiiiff tliem hy the wrisis and moving furward.) H-s-h, J'm 
on a lark to-nii,'ht. 

]\1bs. a. a lark? 

ViKGiNiA. ^V hat's the fun now ? 

Effie. H-s-h, it's an awful lark. I wouldn't tell you 
wiiat it is for the world ; there will be a row if papa finds it 
out. 

Virginia. Yes. Oh ! that's real jolly ; but won't you tell 
us H 

Effie. Not now, perhaps T will some other time, ha— ha — 
ha ! Oh, but it's an awful lark. I say, girls, have you made 
up your mind where you're going to spend the summer'? 
I'm going to Saratoga. 

Virginia. Isn't that splendid, Alston % So are we. 

Effie. Ha — ha— that'll be jolly. Father says I sha'n't go 
to Saratoga, but I'm getting ready all the same, and when 
the time comes I'll pat him under the chin, and I'll put my 
arms around his neck, and I'll pinch his cheeks, and every 
time he goes to say " No," I'll put my lips over his mouth, 
and I shan't let him open his lips until he says " Yes." 
Wethertri<;e and Sir Mort. come down r. and L. 

Wethertree (l.) and Sir Mort. (r.). Ahem 1 A-h-e-m. 

Mrs. a. Sir Mortimer Muttonlegg — Miss Effie Remington. 

Virginia. Mr. Cornelius Wethertree. YL' hey bow very low. 

Wethertree. Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss 
Kemington. 

Sir Mort. (r.). Positively charmed to meet you, Miss Re- 
mington. 

Weth. I assure. Miss Remington, that nothing 

Sir Mort. Nothing could possibly 

Weth. and Sir Mort. I 

\They ai^proach c. until their heads meet in front of 'E.YVl^, 

they look at each other and then turn up stage indignantly. 

Mrs. a. Ha— ha. A double conquest, Eflie. 

Virginia. Two birds with one shot 

Effie. Down on both alleys. 

Mrs. a. Tell me, Eftie ; with all your little conquests 
and your flirtations, is there no one yet — with a moustache, 
for instance, and with fascinating manners, you know, — is 
Ihere no cue that calls for a genuine sigh now and then ] 



12 SARATOGA. [aCT 1. 

Effie. Heigho ! Y-e-s, he has got a moustache. 

Mrs. a. and Virg. Ha — ha — ha, 

Effie. Isn't there some one, Alston, that you are par- 
ticularly partial to ? 

Mrs. a. Well, I'm a woman, and we women must be 
petted, you know. How is it with Virginia % 

Virginia. Heigho, I am a woman too, I suppose. 

P]ffie. I once thought I never should care for one man 
more than another, men are all so stupid after you know 
them. But when Robert 

Mrs. a. Robert ! 

Virginia. Robert ! why that is the name of my— {checks 
heiselj). 

Mrs. a. How very odd ; mine is named Robert also. 

Effie. Yours Robert, and yours; why isn't it funny 1 
What's his last name, Virginia 1 

Virginia. Oh ! that's a secret. 

Effie. A secret. That's real nice ; tell us all about it. 

Virginia. But it's a real secret ! What's your Robert's 
last name '? 

Effie. That's a secret, too. 

Virginia. Yes ; tell us all about it. 

Effie. Oh, but it's a real secret. Olivia, what's the last 
name of your Robert] 

Mrs. a. (r.c). If you young girls can keep a real secret, 
surely a widow can be equally profound. But what an odd 
fancy, Effie,— a rosette upon your shoulder. 

Effie. Do you think it pretty '? It's only a fancy of mine 
for to-night. I say Vanderpool ! Alston ! don't let these 
fellows stay around me ; I have other business to attend to 
now ; take 'em with you when you go. 

Mrs. a. My dear Sir Mortimer, I was looking for Bier- 
stadt's picture in the East Room, will you join me 1 

Sir Mort. (r.). Certainly — a-h— only too happy, of course. 
(Aside.) Confoundedly awkward. I began to hope we should 
be left alone. [Mrs. A, takes Ms arm. 

Virginia. You were going to show me the picture of 
Cupid and his arrows, in the West Room, Mr. Wethertree? 

Weth. Certainly : I — ah ! — (aside) — I wish Cupid and 
his arrows were shot. 

[Weth. and Virg. go r., Mrs. A. and Sir. M.go l. 

Weth Good-afternoon, Miss Remington. 

Sir Mort. Au revoir. Miss Remington. 

YBoth i^oing. They see handkerchief which Effie drops. 
Both gentlemen run to pick it tip. Sir Mort. gets it. 
Then Effie drops her fan, which Wethertree pick^ 
up ; they both bow. Meet each other c. ; as before, draw 



ACT 1.] SARATOGA. lo 

u}) indignintly. Eetiirn to their ladies, and exeunt r. 

and L., leaving Effie alone. 
Effie (alone). Now f(»r my lark: he was to have on a 
white rose-bud, tied with a white ribbon. Let me see — 
{looks at watch) — oh ! it's fifteen minutes yet. I was to 
have the rosette — [arranging it) : that's right. I wonder 
what sort o' looking man he is. I know what I'll do : I'll 
keep my hand over the rosette, and if I don't like his looks, 
when I see the rose-bud, I'll steal away and I'll take off the 
rosette, and he will never know that any one was here to 
see hiui at all I — Ha, ha, ha! {Going l.I.e. Ladies c/^cZ 
Gentlemen cross as she is going out l. !She stares at the 
Gentlemen s lapelles. When iJiey look in return, she draivs 
up with dignity, and passes L.) Oh, but it's an awful lark ! 

{^Exit L. arch. 

Enter Benedict, followed by Robert Sackett, upstairs. 

Ben. Hold on, Bob. What the deuce ! Fifteen minutes 
of nine ; exactly fifteen minutes a-head of time : that's not 
what I call punctuality. Punctuality is on time exactly to 
the minute. Five minutes after time, a broken engagement. 
Fifteen minutes a-head of time, a quarter of an hour lost. 
Punctuality neither loses time nor keeps an appointment 
waiting. Regularity, my dear Sackett, absolutely, regularity 
should be the rule of every man's life. Regularity has beeu 
the rule of my life ; I am a success. Regularity is the rule 
of nature. Nature is a success. But this appointment of 
yours at nine o'clock. You haven't told me as yet what the 
nature of the appointment is. Whom are you to meet ] A 
hundred to one it's a woman. You have been as glum all 
the afternoon as if you had just buried your lirst wife, and 
the lady you had chosen for your second was about to marry 
another man. 

Sack. My dear Benedict, if you love me, don't trifle 
with a subject so sacred as that of matrimony. Wedlock ! 
Two souls in the fond embrace of everlasting love ] Two 
hearts that beat eternally in unison — two 

Ben. Two mouths to feed, two sets of limbs to clothe, too 
much, too long, too many children, too two fools 

Sack. You don't appreciate the sublimity of love. 

Ben. Oh ! certainly 1 do. The sublimity of love is the 
regular thing at our age. I was in love myself once, subli- 
mity and all. It is, without exception, the most disagree- 
able memory of my life ; I couldn't be regular in anything, 
except my meals. Why, I actually forgot to wind my watch 
three mornings in succession. 

Sack. You say you were in love; you didn't marry the 
girl^ it seeius. 



14 BARATOGA. [aCT 1. 

Brn. Beins a baclielor still, I cert;iinly did not. The lady 
jilted me, .and married another gentleman. She did better, 
however, than if she had married me. Her husband died 
in less than three years — I didn't. She is now a daslnng 
widow, the envy of uer own sex and the admiration of ours. 

Sack. Ah ! Benedict — Benedict, it is plain you have 
never loved as I love. 

Bkn. No ; I dare say I haven't. 

Sack. I am an utterly wretched individual ; the fact is, 
I'm in a quandary. 

Ben. M , in . The lady who has secured your af- 
fections does Udt return your love] 

Sack. She adores me. We are engaged to be married. 

Ben. (r.). She is poor, perhaps ; what of that 1 You have 
an income. 

Sack. Her father has retired from Wall Street, with six 
or eight railroads in his vest pocket. 

BiiN. Her parents object to the match 1 

Sack. Her pai'ents never saw me, and they haven't the 
slightest idea that I'm engaged to their daughter. 

Ben. Ah, I see ; the time has come for you to declare 
your love, and you are in suspense as to the result? 

Sack. Quite the contrary. I'm not in tlie least suspense. 

Ben. Well, but if you really love the girl 

Sack. Really love her ! Never man loved woman before 
as I love Virginia. Her name is Virginia ; beautiful name, 
isn't it 1 

Ben. Very well, my dear fellow ; if you love the girl 

Sack. My dear Benedict, please don't say "if I love the 
girl." My love is as fixed as the fixed stars themselves : 
please don't say, "//I love the girl." 

Ben. Well, you love the girl — the girl loves j''ou — you feel 
no misgivings about the final result. I cannot see where 
the ditiicalty lies ; you said you were in a quandary ! 

Sack. Y-e-s, so I a)n. The fact is, Jack, I'm engaged to 
another girl also. (Benedict starts). I know it isn't quite 
regular, Jack ; but it's true. 

Ben. {after a 2^ause). M — , m — , that is awkward. How- 
ever, if you have been imprudent, my dear Bob, the manly, 
regular course is to acknowledge your error as soon as pos- 
sible. Say to the other girl, at once, that you do not love 
her— and 

Sack. Not love her, my dear Jack ! I love Effie devotedly 
— her name is EfRe. I adore the very earth she steps upon. 
Not love my Effic ! Ah ! Benedict, Benedict, it is evident 
you have never loved as I love. 

Den. No! egad I haven't; on€ woman at a time V7aJ 
enough for me. 



ACT 1.] SARATOGA. 15 

Sack. We're engaged to be married. Her father is an 
elderly brute ; being a father, of course he couldnt be any- 
thing but a brute. He's a gruff old coon, a rich old widower, 
he has never permitted my acquaintance, nor tolerated my 
advances. He is more jealous of his daughter than of lii> 
gold. But Effie and I see each other two or three times a 
week, and we are as happy as ever two young lovers wer^ 
in the world. 

Bes. Of course, then, now that you and Effie are sn 
happy, you'll speak to Virginia like a man, and say that 
you've ceased to love her, and 

Sack. Ceased to love Virginia ! My dear Benedict, I love 
Virginia from the bottom of my heart. 

Ben. Oh ! very well, then, you will say to Effie that you 
have ceased to love her, and 

Sack. Ceased to love Effie ! Have I not already told you 
that I adore the very earth she steps upon. 

Ben. Then Virginia must be — - 

Sack. Virginia ! Sweet syllables ! They run through my 
brain continually. 

Ben. {decidedly). Then certainly Effie must be 

Sack. Effie ! That darling name ! I can't get it out of 
my head — - 

Ben. Why, hang it, man ! you can't love both girls at once. 

Sack. I don't. I never think of them both at the same 
time. And — a-h— Benedict — that isn't all. 

Ben. That isn't all ! Another woman ] 

Sack. A widow. 

Ben. a widow .'—the devil ! 

Sack. Exactly ! An adinu-able creature ; dashing, bril 
liant, voluptuous. We are engaged to be married. 

Ben. Engaged to be married % 

Sack. Yes ; but 1 give you my word, Jack, I never in- 
tended it ; it was an accident. 

Ben. An accident ] 

Sack Purely an accident ; I never could imagine how it 
happened ! One night I had been sitting alone with the widow 
in the conservatory ; my arm was about her waist, you 
know, and all that sort of thing. What the deuce I had 
been saying to Jier I never could recollect. But the widow 
suddenly informed me that she accepted my proposal, and 
was mine for ever. 

Ben. She was yours for everl 

Sack. She was mine for ever ; imagine my astonishment, 
if you please. She was my widow for ever. I made the 
best of my situation, of course, and as a matter of courtesy, 
I sent her an engagement present next day I proposed 



16 SARATOGA. [aCT 1. 

to EfRe, Jack, because I couldn't help it. I felt an irresisti- 
ble impulse, from the moment I saw her, to make that par- 
ticular woman my wife. As to Virginia, we melted together 
as it were — we fused. She is a tender, delicate, delicious 
little creature. But the widow v/as an accident— a magnifi- 
cent woman— all that a man could wish — and more too ; 
— but an accident. Jack, purely an accident. 

Ben. And what do you propose to do about it, Bob 1 

Sack. Do] Why, nothing for the present. I intend to 
fly from my lovely persecutors, and lead the life of an an- 
chorite and a hermit — at Saratoga. 

Ben. Saratoga ! Excellent ! an admirable place for an 
anchorite. I intend to go there myself. 

Sack. You do] All right, we'll go together. I'll drown 
my sorrows in Congress-water and dissipation ; with three 
months to think about it, perhaps I can get out of my di- 
lemma. But, by-the-way, it is time for my appointment. 
{Looks R. and L.) 

Ben. Another woman in that, I suppose. 

Sack. No; only " a butterfly," — ha — ha — ha! {takes piece 
of newspaper out of his pocket). Bead that, Benedict. {Gives 
it to him.) 

Ben. {^reading). "X.Y.Z, or any other man. Which of 
you wishes to correspond with an angel warranted genuine ; 
just imported. Only real article in the market. No wi- 
dowers need apply. N. B. — Highest pi'ice paid for cast-oft' 
bachelors — young ones in proportion. Address, Box 167. 
— Butterfly." 

Sack. I cut that out of the Herald, on Tuesday mornii:^, 
answered it, and received in return the most delicate little 
note imaginable, on tinted, paper, and in a disguised hand. 
The note enclosed this carte de visite. What do you think 
of it. Jack ] {Gives Idm picture.) 

Ben. Why, it's the full-faced view of the back of a lady's 
head. 

Sack. A magnificent head of hair, isn't it. Jack? There's 
a head of back hair ! How I long to see what's on the 
other side of that head of hair. I answered the note, ask- 
ing the lady to meet me at this spot, at exactly nine o'clock 
this evening. I was to have a white rosebud, tied with a blue 
ribbon ; she's to have a red, white and blue rosette on her 
shoulder — {Music) — in the place of a brooch— ha, ha, ha ! 
Of course 1 haven't the remotest idea whether she will keep 
the engagement, but if {Going up) R., arm-in-arm.) 

Ben. If she does keep it, you'll have four women, instead 
of three, on your hands. 

Sack My dear Jack, there are at least 400,000 women 



ACT 1.] SARATOGA. 17 

in New York, Brooklyn, Jersey City. I think four a very 
reasonable innnber indeed. 

Ben. But it isn't regular, my dear Bob ; it isn't regular. 

[They stroll out k. 3. E. 
Enter Effie, reading a piece of paper, L. 1. E. 

Effie. " X. Y. Z., or any other man. Which of you 
wishes to correspond with an angel"— (;;a/i;es note from her 
bosom) " Caterpillar." I wonder what sort of a looking ge- 
nius Caterpillar is] (Reading.) "My darling ButterHy !" 
I didn't intend to answer any of them when I wrote the ad- 
vertisement, but "Caterpillar" was so comical. " My dar- 
ling Butterflj', I have fallen in love with your photograph. 
There is a certain melancholy air about it. It is the most 
expressive chignon I have ever seen." That's splendid ! If 
I don't like '" Caterpillar," I'll scamper back to pa, in the 
West Room, like a deer. I'll stand demurely at his side, and 
I'll defy any young man to so much as wink at me, when 
my fatlier gets his eye on him. {Readin^j.) "I enclose my 
own picture. The face, as you will see, appeals strongly to 
the iuiagination." {Looking at picture.) fhat's a splendid 
portrait — of a gentleman's hat ! I am so anxious to hnd 
out what kind of a moustache there is behind that hat. 

[Music F. F. Feople exit r. and l 
Enter Sackett, r. 3. e. He looks at ladies. Effie gota 
and looks at gentlemen. Each dodging tohen discovered, 
and staring at jiictures. 

Sack. It's time for the red, white, and blue rosette to be 
here. 

Enter Livingston and Ogden, crossing e. and l. Sackett 
looks closely at them. 

SAck. Beg pardon, ladies. {Aside.) Nice girls, but no 
rosettes. [Exit e. s. l. 

Effie. If the white rosebud doesn't come at all ! I'll be 
80 provoked. [Effik and Sack, meet c, they start. 

Sack. (l. c). Effie ! 

Effie (r. c). Kobert! 

Sack. She here ! the deuce ! If the red, white, and blue 
rosette should appear at this moment ! 

Ef>'ie. He here ! and at such a time ! How provoking 1 
If the white rosebud should come along now ! 

Sack, {embarrassed). Ah, EtHe ! 

Effie. Robert ! You almost took my breath away. 

[2'hey face each other, and recognize the signals they 
ivear. 

Sack. The red, white, and blue rosette !— 

Effie. The white rose-bud ! Robert, then, is " Cater- 
pillar !" 



18 SARATOGA. [aCT 1. 

Sack. Effie is " Butterfly !" {Looks at picture.) Ah ! 
Fool that I was ! That back-hair ! 

Effie {taking picture from her bosom). Ah ! That hat ! 
the very same. So, sir, I have found you out. This is the 
way you remember your promises to me ! 

Sack. My memory seems to be quite as good as yours, 
Miss Remington. 

Effie. Oh, Robert ! 

Sack. Ah ! Effie ! 

Effie. Let's — let's both of ns forgive each other 1 

Sack. My darling! [Me takes his arm coquettishly . 

Effie. I — I — v,-as only on a lark, you know, Robert. 

Sack. And I was only trying to kill a little time by an 
innocent frolic. Besides {holdiny out incture) was it possi- 
ble for me to look at that picture, and not recognize my 
EfHel 

Effie. Ah ! 

Sack. That back-hair, which has so often rested on my 
shoulder ; — every braid, every curl — every curl— each indi- 
vidual hair. I knew it was my Effie's back-hair. 
Enter Old Remington, r. 3. e. He pciuses; puts on his 
sj^ectaclcs ; looks at them. 

Effie. And that hat, Robert,— (//o/t/s up carrf)— beneath 
whose shadow you and I have i:)assed so many delightful 
moments. I was certain it was my Robert's hat , the crown, 
the brim, the band -everything told me it was my Robert's 
hat. 

Sack, and Effie. A— h ! 

\lle takes her tivo hands in his, warmly. 

Old Rem. {loudly). Ahem ! [Effie goes u}) c. 

Sack, [crossing to Rem. confused). May 1 trouble you for 
a light, sir 1 

Old Rem. I'm not smoking, sir. 

Sack. Oh ! Excuse me, sir. 

Old Rem. You're not smoking, either, sir. This is no 
place to smoke in. 

Sack. Eh] Oh— oh ! so it isn't. I — I— I— beg pardon. 
Excuse me— but I— 1 — in fact— I am a little absent-minded 
now and then. 

Old Rem. I see you are. Where there seems to be so 
much fire — egad, there ought to be sotne smoke. {Crosses, 
and takes Effie's arm.) Come, daughter, {doing l. 1. r. ; 
tu7-ns to Sack., tvho is following.) There is not room for 
three in the way which ive are going, sir. 

Exeunt l. 1. e. Effie looking back, and kissing her 
hand to Robert. Sack, looks ojf, r. 3. E. 

Sack. If there weren't any fathers in the world, there 



ACT h] 8AEATUGA. 19 

wouldn't be any daughters, I suppose ; but, in my opinion, 
of all necessary evils, nature has inflicted mankind with a 
superfluity of fathers. [Stands, looking off L. 

A'nter Virginia and Wethertree, r. 1. e., arm-in-arm. 

ViRG. {sees Sackett). Ah ! Robert, my dear Robert ! 

[^Crosses to him. 

Sack, (fuming round). Ah ! my darling Virginia ! I was 
thinking of you at this moment. 

ViRG. Hush ! I forgot. Beg pardon, Mr. Wethertree — 
{introducing) — a friend of mine. [They bow. 

Weth. (e). Oh ! m— , m — , a friend of hers! 

ViRG. (aside). We'll see each other to-morrc^, Robert 1 

Sack. (l). Certainly, my dear. I'll not think of another 
being until I meet you a^ain. 

ViRG. This way, Mr. \A'etliertree. 

[7'akes his arm, and exeunt L. 3. E. 

Sack, (looking after her). Virginia is so impulsive, 03 
girlish, so gentle — every time I meet Virginia, I'm more and 
more in love with her. [."itill looking after her. 

Mnter Mrs. Alston and, Sir Mortimer, l. 1. c, 
arm in-arm. 

Mrs. a. We'll now try the West Room, Sir Mortimer. 
(Crossing r., tu7-ns and sees Sackett.) Oh, Robert ! Mr. 
Sackett ! [Sir Mort. goes %ip R. and down L. 

Sack, (doivn l.). My dear Mrs. Alston ! my dear Olivia ; 
my heart was full of your image at this very moment. 

Mrs. a. (aside to him). You did not meet me, yesterday, 
as usual, Robert. 

Sack. A business engagement, my dear. 

Mrs. a. I will forgive you this time ; but you'll certainly 
call to-morrovv^ afternoon 1 

Sack. Most adorable of women, certainly I'll dream of 
nothing else till then. 

Mrs. a. (sees Sir Mort.). I beg pardon, Sir Mortimer. 
(Crosses L.) You'll excuse the interixiption. We were going 
to the West Room, I believe. 

[JiJxeicnt R. 1. E. Sack, looking after her. 

Sack. The widow's a charming woman— if she was an 
accident. I think I'm in love with her, after all \ in fact, 

the more I see of lier 

Enter Benedict, r. Arch. 

Ben. I say. Bob, have you got through? 

Sack, (taking him L. 3. E.). Ah ! Benedict, you're just in 
time — do you see her, Benedict] Do you see Virginia % 

Ben. Yes ; that is, I see her back-hair, Bob. 

Sack. "Her back-haii--bob"— nonsense. This way, Bene- 



20 SARATOGA. [aCT 1. 

diet. -{takes kim R. I.E.) — the widow — [music P.l— do you 
see her, Benedict — do you see herl 
Bek. Yes ; I see her back-hair, Bob ! 
Sack, {pidling him L. 1. e.). And there, Benedict — {enter 
guests as before) — My darling Effie ; do you see her, Jack } 
— Do you see her? 

Ben. Egad ! I'm not likely to see anything but back-hair, 
Bob! 

Enter Guests. The Artist comes in r. 1. e. Livingston 
and OuDEN, R. and s. 
Sack, {turns each way). Ah, Effie ! — Virginia ! — Olivia ! 
Benedict— Benedict — you have never loved as I love ! 
Ben. Heaven be praised, I never have ! 
[Sackett stumbles over a dress, and he falls through the 
jncture of " Cyrus the Great." General commotion ; 
t/te Artist strikes an attitude n. 8 \ckett scrambles 
to his feet, with his head through the canvas, and tlie 
frame resting on his shoulders. 



END OF ACT FIRST. 

ACT II. 

Scene. — TJie Congress Springs at Saratoga; int'^rior of f lie 
building, with roof and black and white marble pavement ; 
the rising ground, walks, trees, Sfc, (f the park in the bach 
ground. The sunken spring with its railing up c. 

Discovered, the spring ; boy passing up water tvilh long pole 
and rack ; ladies and gentlemen passiig R. and L., in the 
park back, and drinking at the spriig. Muffins leaning 
nqainst a pilla'- and' knitting, i/ver the rail of the spring ; 
two children placing together back Daring M.V¥¥i^s' first 
long speech, the different people, lohoni she describes, pass in, 
drink, and pass out, tcith appropriate motions in dumbshow, 
wry faces, 4'c. 

Muffins. Another glass of water for the ou1d lady ; I've 
seen that same woman dlirink half a dozen glasses already this 
blessed day, and she'll dhrink a dozen more before night — 
she's been told it's the fashionable thing. There's the ould 
coon wid de rheumatism again — along wid his wife — slie's a 
sharp one, she is— she makes him kape on dlirinking in 
ejipite of himself She is anxious for a second husband, and 
she thinks the rheumatism alone can't be depinded upon. 
Och! and there comes the man that always dhrinks whiskey 
at night and Congress wather in the day-time. Divil a mo- 
ment's pace does his poor stomach get day or night. One of 



ACT 2.] SAEATOGA. 21 

these days his stomacli will go on a shtrike for eight hours' 
work. And there comes the gintleman tbat's been in the 
last stages of consumption for tlie last thirty-five years — the 
oiild darkey barber tould me all about it, and there's the 
ould maid thnt went into a decline about die same time. 
Sure it's a pity they didn't git married. It might have cured 
them both, they've stood the wather all this time ; perhaps 
they could 'a taken aitchitlier widout making a wry face at 
the dose. Ah, bless her darling little heart ! Here comes 
the young lady that's thrying her best to learn how to drink 
Congress wather, and look pritty at the same time — and tlie 
young ginlleman that's wid her, he's learning to endure dis- 
agreeable things widout swearing in the presence of ladies. 
Sure they both have to retire together behind the curtains 
in the bow window at the hotel before they can get the taste 
of the water out of their mouths. I saw 'em there last night 
fading aitchither wid swate mates. Ocli ! and here slie is 
again — the big woman wid a little husband ; she's mighty 
particular about his health — shure she — well may be too — 
she'll niver git another if she loses him, and he's handy to 
have in the house. Siie's awfully afraid hell die — and he's 
afraid he won't. There's wan thing I cnn't get through my 
head, all the pnyple kape drinking this Saratogy water as if 
there was a Chicago conflagration inside of 'em, and yit they 
kape making faces all the time, as if they'd rather be swal- 
lowing Kerasene oil ; bedad, I (au't put this and that togi- 
ther— ony more than I can the two sides of Misthress Gay- 
lover's corsets. But Conuress wather is the fashion, I sup- 
pose, and shure payple of fashion swallow worse things than 
that every day ; faith, they swallow each other's compliments 
widout making wry faces at all {L'ads children up stage). 

Enter Kemington, e. e. 

Kem. Boy, a glass of that damned water. 

[i?oy hands up water. 

Enter Vanderpool, l. and E. 
Van. Boy ! a glass of that damned water. 

[^Gets water ; they drink on opposite side. 
Eem. Ah ! Vanderpool ! 
Van. Eh? oh! Eemington. 
Eem. Enjoying your daily beverage, I suppose. 
Van. Eh ? {listening, his hand to his ears). 
Eem. (louder). Your daily beverage. 

Vajj. Bev-beverage ? Y-e-s. My doctor prescribed it. 
I asked him to make it castnr-(iil, but he wouldn't relent. 
Eem. I've been practising — on petroleum. 
Va^. Petroleum ! yes ; lihey say they do use petroleum 



22 SARATOGA. [aCT 2. 

now — instead of o'd shoes. I'm getting alonjr, however. 
I've been tiiking a few easy lessous in paragoric (sl/Js). De- 
licious, isn't it? (toy face). 

Rem. (sipping, with a wry face), Deliglitful. 

Van. Nectar. 

!Rem. {coming down B., wiping hisforeJiead). They call this 
travelling for pleasure — thermometer at ninety-eight in— — 

A-^AN. Eh ! what say ? 

Rem. I say the thermometer is ninetv-ei'.'ht in 

Van. Yes — in a refrigerator. Mrs. Vanderpool, and my 
daughter, Virginia, call tliis triivelling for plea.siire. 

Bem. So does my daughter, EfBe, heigh-hi — unfortunately, 
/have no wife to share the pleasure with me. 

Van. Eh ! what did you say was unfortunate ? 

Rem. I say I have no wife to 

Van. Oh ! m -m — y-e-s— that's a matter of opiuion. 

Rem. I regard it as very unfortunate, indeed. 

Van. M-m— y-e-s — some folks do. 

Rem. {loudly in his ear). I feel the want of a mother's care 
for my daughter Effie. 

Van. Motlier's care, daughter? Don't trouble yourself 
about that, old fellow — your girl will be married soon enough 
without a mother's care ; my daughter, Virginia, has a 
mother's care — too much — by half. 

Rem. But a mother can watch over 

Van. Watch? yes — Mrs. Vanderpool is always on the 
watch, Mrs. Vanderpool watches a young gentleman as a cat 
watches a mouse. 

Rfm. As to my daughter Effie — I can't do anything with 
the girl She is even now off to the races— alone — with two 
gentlemen. 

Van. Rnce- yes ! it's a race between the women in Sara- 
toga who'll get to the devil first — up to one o'clock in the 
morning at a hop — breakfast at eleven. 

Rem. Then come the hoi\se races at the park. 

Van. Dressing. 

Rem. (in his ear). Dinner. 

Van. More dressing. 

Rem. Another hop in the evening {in his ear). 

Van. And after that — the Lord knows what — ^T don't. 
That is what Mrs. Vanderpool calls " travelling for pleasure." 

Rem. (ooiuj b. u-itk Van.). Damn travelling for pleasure. 

Van. Eh ? 

Rem. I say — I — I don't — like travelling for pleasure. 
Van. Neither do I — damn travelling for pleasure ! 

[Mreunt together B. E., during above conversation 
people have paaied and repassed in park, and alao 



ACT 2.] SARATOGA. 23 

in the colonnade, getting water, MtTFFilirs leaning 
f>ver the rnillng ; the children phiijinij at back. 

Little Girl {hmhing up fiom her play). Oh! Muffins — 
there's ruanima, and papa — both to<j;etlier. 

Muffins (looking r.). Their mother nnrl tlieir father both 
together. That's a very remarkable coin^/dence {emplvisis on 
third syl.). I notice they're always to^itlier when they're 
quarrelling — and visy vcrsy — they're always quarrelling whin 
tiiey're togither. They've parted agin. I thought they 
woiddn't bay long togither widout laving aitchither. Now 
she's coming this way wid Major Luddingt'ii Wliist. Here 
comes your mamma, my little dears - mind you don't disturb 
her by spaking to her. 

Enter Mrs. Gaylovkb on the arm of Ma joe Luddington 
Whist. Thei/ pass slowlg la l. 

Mrs. Gay. Ha — lia — ha — what w ould my husband say if 
he shouhl hear that, my dear Major ^ 

The Major. VVliat would he say P I don't know, upon 
my lit'e. I could guess what he would thinh, however. 

Mrs. Gay. And what would he think, pray ? 

The Major. He would think that it was exactly what he 
himself had said — to some other gentleman's wife — within 
the last twenty-four hours, 

Mrs. Gay. Ha— ha — ha— I fear you are a very naughty 
man, iu'leed, Major LuddingI on Whist. 

The Major. My dear madam — the word "naughty " in a 
wonum's voeabuhiry — when app'ied to the opposite sex — is 
charity itself; it covers a multitude of sins. 

Little Girl. Mamma ! [7'//e iwu chill rim run to her. 

Mrs. Gay. Oh ! my children [pushing them aside). My 
dress — you will ruin it (theg tmn amle cri/im/ and clinging to 
Muffins). Muffins, don't allow the children to disturb me 
while I am dressing for dinner. Excuse the interruption, 
Major Whist (tah's his arm going l., turns). And Muffins — 
I shall need a long nap after dinner — see that the children do 
not enter my room (going, turns). And Muffins, put the 
children to bed immediately after supper. I shall be dressing 
for the ball at the Clai-endon. And i shall need your assist- 
ance : — and Muffins, don't allow the chddren to disturb their 
fat!ier this afternoon — it makes him nervous — sorry to keep 
you so long. Major. 

The Major. Don't mention it, madam — domestic matters 
tvi'l sometimes intrude even upon the sacred duties of society 
{sh'ius ht-r out — creunt L. E.). 

Muffins. What are you in this world for, anyway, the little 
cherubins? Ye ware niver sent for. Why didn't ye stay in 
Heaven where they apprayciate little children. It's lucky 



24 SARATOGA. [aCT 2' 

you've got some one to love, bless your Hltle hearts, if it isn't 
anybody but MnfSns. For all they say of their father and 
niither in Saratotija, they might as well bay in the orphan 
asylum. I AAas hired for a nurse — and I have to be father 
and mither, too, to these blessed infants — all for eighteen 
shillings a vvake. [JiJurit E. with children, 

filter Ogden b., and Livingston e. and l. 

Ogden. Livingston ! 

Livingston. Ogden ! 

Ogden {coyving down). Just back from the races P Weren't 
they splendid to-day? 

Liv. I think they were horrid. I lost forty dollars. 

Ogden. Ha, ha ! of course they were horrid — you didn't 
bet on tlie right horse, that was all. 

Eu*er Yi'RG'iNiA,full(nvcd by Littlefield, l. e. 

ViEGiN!A. Oil ! here you are. girls {tuminy to Little- 
field). 'J'hat will do, Frank, you may leave now. After 
dinner, you know, then you may make love to me again — 
I'm tired now. 

[Littlefield boxes and exits l., Vieginia comes down. 
Girls — been to the races, of course — I g^t back ahead of you 
all. Major Luddiugton Whist was with me, you know— and 
he drives such sphndid horses ; we took the longest way 
around too. We passed everything on the road as if it were 
standing still. Jenny Hazletoii and her lover took our dust 
before we had been out of the park three minutes. Then Me 
came up to old Wethertree and Elhe Eejuington, ha — ha — 
ha— then there loas fun. Effie seized the ribbons her.-^elf' — 
80 did I — we couldn't trust the men at such a time as that, 
you know. It was neck and neck for a moment — one word 
from the Major — and the last !Rcmingt< n saw of us was the 
back of my head as we whirled round the corner, and came 
in on the same stretch — ha — ha — ha — the Major is a charm- 
ing fellow — he puts a girl behind such splendid horses. Here 
comes Eemington. under double Cdnvoy. She's been doing 
the spoony with Wethertrue and Sir Mortimer alternately 
for the hist two weeks. 

Ogden. Tiiey say she's engaged to Mr. Wethertree. 

Livingston. Is it true? 

Vieginia. He proposed to her last evening. She will 
probably accept him — for the season. 

[All htiigh — fjoinij up t., get toater. 
Enter Effie icith Siu Moktimee and Wetheetbee, b. k. 

Effie {siquiJicaHtly, as if dismissing him). Good-afternoon, 
Sir Mortimer. 

SiE Moet. Eh! Y^e— s. Very delightful afternoon. 

Weth (aside). He ! he ! that is a pretty broad hint 
Sir Mortimer. He ! he ! he ! 



ACT 2.] SARATOGA. 25 

Effiij (in same manner). Good afternoon, Mr. Wether- 
tree ! 

Weth. Eh ! yes ! a particularly pleasant day. 
Effie (deviiireli/, after lookhiy at each, c). I have had 
sufficient ibr tlie present. 

Sir Most. Ali, yes ; certainly [niaves l.). 
AVkth. Exactly. Ahem! Certainly. Good morning, Miss 
Femingtoii. (U"7vs ai d exit l. 1. E.) 

■SiK iVJoET. (asii/e). These American girls are the most 
unaccountable creatures. Tiiey pick a man up, and then 
tliev drop liiui : one never knowa when he is g'>iiig to be 
droppei', you know {lnobs at Effie, rr//o sUnais lioJcitig at Iiim 
dniiuieltf). Y— e — s. Au remir. Miss Effie [aside); I am 
dropped. These American girls are the most Miiaccountable 
cr<a;urts. {^Jixit-R. \. &. 

Ei-riK. Ha! ha! ha I Congratulate me, girls ! Ha! ha! 
Old ^^'etherlree and 6ir Mortimer Mutionlegg each wants 
me to be the wife ot Lis bosom, respectively. Ha ! ha ! ha I 
Imagine nu- llie wile of Old Wetln rtiee's bosom. 
All Ha! ha! La! ha! 

ViKGiNiA (l. c). And Frank Littlefield, the student, yon 
know, asked me to be the wife oi his bosom yesterday after- 
noon. So did Major Luddiiigion Whist! 

Effie (u. c.) What's a poor girl to do? She can't be 
the wile of everybody's bosom. 

ViKG. (l. c). Hou much did you lose at the races, Effie? 
El fie. Lose? I VA on thirty-live dollars. I bet on Ham- 
biirii. 

ViRG. Wliy, Hamburg was the last horse in. How did 
you win lliirty-five do lars, if you bet on the horse that was 
beaien ? 

Effie. Why, Old "Wetliertree suid I won; and a young girl 
isii't expected to kno^v anything about such things, you 
know. When tiie race was over, I pouted my lips, and 
looked injured, you know, and says I, "There — I've lost 
my bet ! " " No. you Laveii't, my dear," said he ; " you ve 
won tlie bet." AU I said v\as, "Oh!" 
All the Giels. Oh ! (lain; draivn out). 
Effie. And Wethertree passed over the stakes. 
ViKG. Hal La! La! the designing wretch ! 
Effie. 'J o impose on a AOuiig girls innocence in that 
way {lau(jli). Eat wLat'il we do with the money, girls? 
Oh ! 1 Lave it. You Know that old woman who sells applea 
and sugar-things by the spring.' She told me yesterday 
that her eldest boy had brok< n Lia leg, and she's g-'t to sup- 
port the family and pay the doctor's bill besides. I'm going 
to give my money to her. 



2G SARATOGA. [aCT 2. 

ViKG. (t e.). And I won sixty dollars. I'll give my sixty. 
Tliat'll make niiieiy-five-dollMrs for the old woman. 

Effie. Tliat'll be jolly : she never had so much money in 
ber lile before ! 

Ogden (r. e.). I must go and dress for dinner. 

LiviNGsroN. So must I. 

Effie. Oii ! tliere's plenty of time for that. Come a'ong, 
Yanderpool : let's take a turn in the park. They talk about 
a girl s neeiling two hours to dress for dmncr — I can jump 
out of a walking-dress into a trail in exactly ten minute'* by 
the clock. [Ji-feiint Effie and Virginia, e. 1. e., 

Ogden and Livingston, l. 1. e. 

^nfei Bened CT, L. 1. E. 

Bex. {lofihing offvi.). Mrs. Olivia Alston and Olivia walk- 
ing alone in the park wi;h Colonel Tillingliart agnin. 

That is the third time I've seen them together within 

Well, what the deuce do I care if Mrs. Olivia Alston is 
valking in the park with another gentleman? It's no affair 
of mine. What the di-uce am I mop nij around and watch- 
ing every movement as jealously as if — if Mrs. Olivia Alston 
chooses to • Jack Benedict, you're a foi)l ! It is per- 
fectly ridiculous; to fall in love with a woman ; to be jilted 
by lier ; to see her marry anolhcr man ; and to fall in love 
with (he same wonuin again, after she becomes a widow ! It 
is perfectly ridiculous! I know it; and I can't help it.; it 
isn't liie regular ihing— 111 be the laiigliing-stoc'i of all my 
fri nds {h'oksat wnltli). There! I've been letting my watch 
run down again. I'\e done that twice this week. Somehow 
I can t be re^jular in anything now. 

Ener Sackett, hi travelliiui-snit ; comes down B. «j/' Ben, 
slapping him on the shoulder. 

Sackett. Hallo ! Jack I 

Ben. What! Bob Sackett! 

Sack [rapid h/). Jack, you're the very man I want. I've 
been looking for you everywhere ! Don't ask any questions 
— there isn't time {look'! R. and l. ). Jack, I dare not remain 
wiihin the city limits of Saratoga five minutes. I stand upon 
a powder-magazine (Benedict starts). Effie, Virginia, and 
the widow are all in Saratoga. I expect au explosion any 
moment. 

Ben. All in Saratoga? Then why are you here ? 

Sack. Fate, my dear Benedict ! — Fate ! I am here to ask 
a favour of you, Jack. I discovered that my three dulcineas 
were all here, just in time, j'ou know, not to come myself. So 
I wrote to Eflie, Virginia, and the widow, that professional 
duties detained me in Hew York. Well^" professional 



ACT 2.] SARATOGA. 27 

duties " called me to Vermont, about tlu-ee weets ago ; hunt- 
ins;, fishing, dancing, atid so on, among the Green Moun- 
tains — anywhere except Saratoga. A few days ago, as I was 
walking by a lake near the Mansfield Mountain House, in 
the moonlight, I saw a runaway horse dashing madly down 
the road. As it came nearer, I discovered a fair young 
creature. 

Ben. (xfartinf/). Another woman ! 

^ACK. Another womnn ! no, sir— an angel ! I sprang 
into the midille of tlie road; the horse stopped suddenly 
before me. and the fair young creature fi-U over tiie dash- 
board into my arms. On tlie impulse of the moment I 
pressed a dozen warm kisses on her lips. Tliat is all I have 
to remember her by ; a beastly young brother came up in a 
moment. She thanked me in the politest possible language, 
and that is the last I've seen of her. I've not had a mo- 
ment's peace since that nijiht. Suclx an exquisite throat ; 
and a wealth of golden hair fell bacV upon lier shoulders! 
Unknown enchaniress of my lite — my fair incognita ! — I — 

Ben. But what lias all this to do with your vi-it to Saratoga? 

Sack. (e.). I liurried to the Mansfield House next morning. 
She had been there, but liad left two hours before. The 
party, so far as I could learn, consisted of an elderly gentle- 
man—her father, of ciur'^e — the angel herself, and Iter bro- 
ther. I traced them to Lake George ; from there they had 
started for Saratoga; and here i am in search of the golden 
fleece 

Ben. (l.). Well, now you're here, you can share my private 
parlour— No. 73. 

Sack. My dear Benedict, I couldn't think of it. I dare 
not remain in Saratoga five minutes. I don't pi'opuse to run 
into any more danger than is necessarv, I intend to engage 
rnoins at the Driltwood Hoiisi-, near the banks of the lake. 
And now ni}"^ favour from you, Jack. I want you to stare at 
every woman in Saratoga ; look every old gentleman out of 

countenance until you find my fair unknown. Hemem- 

ber. Jack, she has a profusion of golden tresses, an oval face, 
medium height, an elderly father, and a young brother. 
Seaich every hotel in Saratoga, hire the fastest horses you 
can get, and report to me, at h ast three times a day, at the 
Driftwood House. If j^ou find her. Jack, I'll leave the rest 
to chanci' and Providence. I'll foil >w her to the ends of the 
earth. By-the-way. Jack, how do you get along anions the 
Saratoga belles P No fluttering about the heart, now and 
then, you old icicle — eh ? 

Ben. (l.). Ahem! Well, I say. Bob, you'll promise not to 
laugh at me P 

2—2 



28 SARATOGA. [act 2. 

Sack. Oh ! eh ! Not — ha ! ha ! ha !— then there is— ha f 
ha! Oil, certainly ! I'll promise not to laugh — ha! ha! hal 
(check" lihnself). 

Ben. (l.). Well, then — I — I— I am in love — with a widow. 
Bob. 

Sack. A widow P — ha! ha! ha! \\a,\ — {chp(]c'< liimself). 

Ben. Bob, I — I — I — am in love with the same woman I 
was in love with before ghe was niiinied. 

Sack. The — ha ! ha ! ha! ha! ha! — I know I promised not to 
laugh, Jack ; but— ha! ha! lia! — the name woman that you were 
— ha ! ha ! ha! Does being a widow improve her any. Jack? 
Ha ! ha! lia ! — I say, Jack, you waited for the second table, 
didn't 3'ou.P — ha ! ha ! lia! You took her affections warmed 
over. By-thc-«-ay, Jack, what is the w idow's name ? — ha! 
ha! ha! 

Ben. Her name — Mrs, O ivia Alston ! (Sack, slops laugh- 
iv(f, di av)s a long face, aiid sluggem). Eh ! what's the matter. 
Bob ? 

Sack. Nothing ; only a little stilch in the side. {Aside) 
It's v,y widow ! 

Ben. dooking E.). There she is now, Ben, coming this way, 
with a gentleman. She'll be here in two minutes. I'll intro- 
duce you. 

Sack. No, thank you, Jack. I have a very particular 
engagement elsewhere at this particular moment. I w ish you 
joy, old boy: and, by-the-way. Jack, kiss the widow now 
and then on my account — ha ! ha ! ha! — and you'll not forget 
the Driftwood House, Benedict? 

Bkn. Certainly not. I am to stare at every woman in 
Saratoga. 

Sack. A flood of go'den tresses — 

Ben. (r.). Eeport three times a day — 

Sack. (l.). The fastest horses you can get. 

Ben. Ha! ha! ha! [Erit ■&. 

Sack. Ha! ha! ha! — ///V widow — w/;y widow ! [Exit j,. 
Evter ]Mk. and AjBS. Vandeupdol, r. u. e. 

Mrs. Van. (l.). Mr. Vanderpool, you're a brute! 

Van. ( flitting hand to his ear). What say ? 

Mrs. Van. (in his ear). You are a brute ! 

Van. Y-e-s — very likely, my dear ; y cu told me that thirty 
years ago, my love. 

Mrs. Van. If I had told it to you every day in the year, 
for thirty years, I should only have been doing my duty. 

Van. (r.). Well, my dear, I don't think there are many 
days in the last thirty years that need rest very htavily on 
your conscience. Jf I had my way about it, Mrs. Vander* 
poor, Virginia should not remain another day in Saratoga. 



ACT 2.] SARATOGA. 29 

Look at the girl to-day, madam ; she has come home from 
the races with her head full of chestnut fillies, and three- 
year-old geldings, and little hay mares, and quarter poles, 
and pedigrees. If I had my way about it, madam, Virginia 
shouldn't remain at Saratoga another hour. 

Mks. Van. (l.). But you haven't your way about it. Mr. 
Vanderpool ! Virginia shall remain in Saratoga until the 
15tli of September. You insist on burying the girl in some 
quiet resort by the seaside for tlie summer; — now, I insist 
on giving her all the advantages of fashionable society. 
Virginia is of a marriageable age, Mr. Vauderpool, and 1 
am a mother. 

Van. You certainly are, my dear. 

Mrs. Van. You are a father ! 

Van. I certainly am — that is, I presume I am, Mrs. Van- 
ierpool. 

Mks. Van. We each of us owe a duty to Virginia. My 
duty is that of a careful mother. Young gentlemen of the 
verj' best families come to Saratoga. Would you have me 
neglect my duty, Mr. Vauderpool ? 

Van. (k.)- But the girl has alreaily been engaged to three 
gentlemen to my positive knowledge. It isn't a mother's 
duty to provide more than one husband for her female off- 
spring, is it ? 

Mks. Van. Mr. Vauderpool, I was engaged to foui- gentle- 
men before I married you. 

Van. Y-e-8 — I remember. I never forgave that last fellow 
for dropping off so suddeidy just before I — 

Mrs. Van. Vauderpool! 

Van. Eh.=^ 

A'lifer Hon. Wm. Carter and Lucy, l. 1. e. 

Carter. This way, my dear — boy, a glass of water. Shall 
I liold your shawl, my dear ? 

Lucy. Thank you, my love (ffives him shawl, and takes 
u-ofer). Ah— oh ! isn't it horrid, though ? 

Van. (r. c). Why, surely— certain ly, it is my old fiiend 
— William Carter ! 

Carter (l. c). Eh! Why, my dear Vandcrpool ! — de- 
lighted to meet you at Saratoga— it must be five years, ar- 
least, since we have seen each other — Mis. Vauderpool, too. - 
This is an unexpected pleasure. Mis. Carter — my wife- 
Mrs. Vauderpool — (Mes. Van. and TjV cy /x/w) — Mrs. Carter, 
this is one of my veiy best old friends— Mr. Vauderpool 
{passing her over to Van.). 

Wan. (k. c). Why, upon my word, that's very odd. I knew 
you had a son, old fellow, but I certainly never saw your 
daughter before. 



50 8AEAT0GA. [ACT 2. 

Carteb (t, c. E., aside). That's pleasant, by Jove ! that's 
the tenth time my wife has been taken for my dauj^hur siuce 
we've been on our wedding tour. 

Van. I'm delighted to see you, my little darling — he I he ! 
he ! ( pats her under the chin). I've known your fatlier ever 
since he « as a boy, my dear — we were schoolmates together 
— he! he! he! — I shall be your w//c/e, you know — he! he! 
he ! Tou must call me " Uncle," for the sake of Auld Lang 
Syne {kisses her). 

Mes. Van. (r.). Vandeipool ! 

Van. Eh? {kisses Lvcy ai/ai??). 

Carter {usidr). Vandeipool chucks my wife under the chin 
and kisses her for the sake of Auld Lang Syne. Damn Auld 
Lang Syne ! 

Van. I knew your mother very well, my dear. 

Carter. Ahem ! 

Van. Your mother was a lovely woman, my dear: one of 
the most angelic women I ever met. 

Carter (l., aside). Oh, Lord! my first wife! 

Van. But she must have died before you can remember. 
Let me see — seventeen years ago — of course you can't re- 
member it. 

Carter {aside). Confound his memory, say I ! 

Mrs. Van. Mr. Vanderpool, tliis lady is the wife of Mr. 
Carter {in his ear, b.). 

Van. Eh! what? 

Mrs. Van. {in his ear). This lady is not his daughter 

wife! 

Van. Not his daughter wife ! Oh, she's your son's 

wife! Well, I thought it was curious; but it's all in the 
family, isn't it, my little dear? — be! he! he! {chucks her 
chiv, and kisses her). 

Carter. Damn it, Vanderpool, the lady is mi/ wife ! {in hi§ 
ear). 

Van. Eh ! 

Carter {in his ear). Mrs. Carter — is my wife ! 

Van. (r. c). Your — she is your wife— ha — ha — ha — {laughs 
very heartily some seconds). I say, my dear — suppose — ha — 
ha — ha — you — ha — ha — were — lia^ha — were — ha — ha — 
such a tender young thing as that! {pointing uitii his thumb 
to Lucy, and still laughing). 

Mrs. V. {with dignity). Mr. Vanderpool — I was once such 
a tender young thing as that. 

Van. Yes — but then — I was a tender young thing too — I 
say, Carter, you old rogue, why didn'r vou keep inside your 
own geneiation — ha — ha — ha — {punchmq his nhs). By-the- 
way, old bov. "vou must lorgive me for kissing your wife— 



ACT 2.] SAEATOGA. 31 

you may take your revenge if you like — by kissinj; Mrs. 

Vanderpool — lia — ha ! [.They go up E. c. 

Eiiier Effie and Virginia, e. 

Effik andYiRG. Lucy Martimiale! 

Lucy. EfRe Eeniiugton and Virginia Vanderpool ! (kisses 
ihem). Not Lucy Martiudale now, girls. I'm manned now, 
you know. 

Etfie. Oh ! yes, we heard you were goinji to get married. 

ViKG. I say, Carter, is tliat your husband ? 

Lucy. Yes ! i-n't he a nice old gentleman ? 

Effie. How do vou like the old man. Carter? 

Van. By-the-way, Carter, old boy — you and — and — ha — 
ha — and jour- wife — have aiiivetl just in the nick of time. 
We've arranged for a picnic this afternoon out at the lake : — 
Mrs. Vanderpool — Kemington — the girls, Benedict, Mrs. 
Al.'-ton, and thi' rest of us— half-past three — you'll join us, 
of course. 

Caeter. Oil — certainly ; — Mrs. Carter and I will join the 
parij-^ with pleasure — eii, my love? 

Lucy, {noddhiy). Certainly, my darling. 

Van. He — lie — "Mrs. Carter" — wife! — he — he — "my 
love " — " diirliiig " —he— he — oh ! — Carter — ha ha— ha — 
(punching hiiii in the rihs). 

Enter FiiED. Caeter, l. He is dres-ed in the height of fashion, 
glasses, enne, Sfc. 

Feed. Hallo! governor — mother dear, I thought you had 
gone to your room at the hotel. 

Van. (e. c. to Cmtrr). Certainly. I recognize him at once, 
' Mrs. V. Tiii:^ iss your son, Frederic I'' 

Van. Such a striking resemb'ance to his mother, the first 
Mr-. Carter — }our angelic predecessor, my dear. 

Lucy (i.itriidiiciiig Fi-ed.). My s>u, Frederic Augustus 
Carter, Miss Vanderpool [thej/ huiu). My son. Miss Reming- 
ton [thei/ how). 

Effie (a4ile to Vjeg.). I say, Vanderpool, isn't Carter 
putting un airs ? 

ViKG. Jiilr "dncing that great fellow as her son ! 

Effie. She's only been married three weeks. I'll be his 
grandmother. 

Feed, {ci-' ssing to l. c). Delighted to meet you, ladies; 
in fact I'm delighted to get to Saratoga, where they have 
billiards and cards, and ladies, and fairs, and races, aud every- 
thing else to make a gentleman comfortable. Father, mother, 
and I have been on our wedding tour, 

Caetee (l.). Have weP 

Van. (e. c). Oh, yes, I say. Carter, you haven't told Ui 
about your wetldiiig tour yet, of course. 



32 SARATOGA. [act 2. 

Mbs. Van. (b.)- Yes, you must tell us all about your wed- 
ding; tour. 

Feed. (l. c). Certainly. We had a deliirlitrul wedding 
tour ; we've been to the Green Mountains, White Mountains, 
and Lake George — balls, moonlight walks, music. 

Carter {turning him aii-ay by the ear). I'd like to know 
who's wedding tour this is. 

Fred, {recorerinp his position). And such an adventure as 
mother had when we were at the Mansfield Mountain House 
in Vermont. 

LfCY (l. c). Oh. yes ! it wns so funny. Frederic and I 
were riding ;ilone, near the lake, in the moonliglit, one 
evening. .Mr. Carter wasn't very well that evening. 

Carter. Yes, a slight cold, which — ah ! had settled iu my 
limbs. 

Van. Eh ! Oh yes; that isn't what I call it. 

Carter. Never mind what yoM call it, sir. Mrs. Carter 
was riding alone with Frederic. 

Lucy. Yes ; and the horse suddenly took fright as we 
reached a dangiTous part of the road. Frederic was thrown 
out at the first bound. 

Fred. Yes — ha- -ha— ha — I landed plump in a puddle of 
water. {All laugh.) 

Lucy. And I was left alone in the carriage. Of course 1 
was terribly frightened — I don't know what might have be- 
come of me, but just its I was approaching a dangei'ous turn 
in the road — a man 

ViRG. (r. c). a man ? 

Effie (c). Aman.*^ It begins to get interesting. 

Lucy. A man sprang into the centre of the road. The 
horse stopped as suddenly as it had started — and I 

Carter. Mrs. Carter fell over the dashboard. 

Lucy. Into the arais of the — arms of — 

Effie. Of the man. 

Carter. Exactly. Mrs. Carter fell over the dashboard 
into the arms — of tlie man. 

Van. Mr. Carter should be eternally grateful to — the man. 

Carter. So I am. I shall never forgive — I mean I shall 
never fori'ct that— man. 

Lucy. Frederic came up in a moment, we thanked the 
stranger and — and that was the last we saw of him. He waa 
a young man. 

ViRG. Oh ! he was a young man. 

Carter (l.). Some young snipe or another. 

Lucy. Yes ; he was some young snipe or another. He 
was of about medium heigiit, and he — he had a moustache — 
I am certain he had a moustache. 



ACT 2.] SARATOGA. 33 

"I'iRG. That kind of " snipe '' always does have a moustache. 

Effie. And a woman can neai'ly always tell it just as well 
in tlie dark as she can in the daytime. 

LucT. Oil ! but it was moonlight, you know. 

Carter. Certainly. It was mnoiilight. 

Van. Yes, moonshine. \_The party .separate av.d all move up 
Enter Mrs. Alston and Benedict, b. e. 

Mrs. a. How very romantic, Mr. Benedict. 

Ben. My friend is perfectly enthusiastic about the lady. 
A flood of go'den tresses, you kno'A'. 

Mrs. a. Ha — ha — hn — and sucli au exqnisile thi-oat {se<s 
others). Ah ! Virginia. EfBc, Mrs. Vnnderpool, we li.ive all a 
mission to peiform {"11 comefonoard) for Cupid,* a friend of 
Mr. Benedict — he refuses to tell me his name — for that he- 
says is t-onlideniial — is hovering around Saratoga, in se;irch 
of an un'.vnown fairy, whose shadow he is determined to fol- 
low to the euds of the world. 

Effie (c). Oh ! a romance. 

Lucy (l. c). A romance! 

Mrs. Van. (k.). By-the-way, Mrs. Alston, Mrs. Carter — 
the don. William Carter, her hnsbaiul, Mr. Frederic Augus- 
tus Carter (they how), Mr. Benedict {lie boirs). 

Ben. (l. c). Yes — ha — ha— ha — my I'riend has commis- 
sioni'd me to stare at every lady in Saratoga. Now that's no 
light task for a modest gentleman like myself, and I sliall 
ask all you ladies to a-^sist me. 

Mrs. Van. Certainly — we will be delighted to assist you. 

Ben. I'm to discover a V3ry beautiful young creature with a 
flood of golden hair, falling back upon her shoulders, an oval 
face, and medium height. She is accompanied by her fathf r. 
an elder. y gentleman, and a young brother. My friend me 
the young laily under very peculiar circumstances, on a 
lonely road near the Mansfiell Mountain House, in Vermom. 

Carter (l.) {interested). Where did you say lie met the 
lady, sir ? 

Ben. Upon a lonely road near the Mansfleld Mountai i 
House, in Vermont. The lady was in a carriage alone — In r 
horse was dashing madly down the road {sensation). 

Lucy (l. c). Ahem ! Mr. Benedict. 

Ben. Eh! 

Omnes {in succesfion). Go on, sir — go on, Mr. Benedict-- 
go on, &c., &c. 

^ * KoXE. — Position as tliey come forward. 
Mrs. Alston, EfEe. 
Virginia. Benedict. 

Mrs. Vanderpool. Lucy. 

Vtnderpool. Carter. 

Pm^eric. 
2-3 



84 SARATOGA. [aCT 2. 

Ben. Certainly. I was going on, and so was the horse, by- 
the-way. The animal dashed madly down the road, bearing 
its lovely freight to destruction. 

Mks. a. (c). But Mr. Benedict's friend saw the danger, 
and sprang into the road. 

Ben. Tlie horse stopped suddenly before him — and the fair 
young creature 

Carter. Fell over the dashboard into the arms of your 
friend. 

Ben. Exactly — and I leave it to you, sir, if, under similar 
circamstaiicesi, you wouldn't have fallen in love with the girl 
yourself. 

Caktek. Hang it, sir, you n, ?dn't leave anything to me, 
fiir. 

Omnes {in succession). Go on — go on, Mr. Benedict — go 
on — 

Ben. Ha — ha — ha. — He is most desperately in love with 
her — raves about her exquisitely moulded throat — her ruby 
lips — her 

Lucy. All ! Mr. Benedict. 

Omnes {hi succession). Go on, sir — go on, Mr. Benedict- 
go on. 

Ben. I am going on. He calls her the unknown enchan- 
tress of his sonl — an angel mcognita — ha — ha — swears he will 
follow her to the ends of the earth. 

Carter. Oh, he will — will lie ? 

Lucy. Oh ! Mr. Benedict — sir 

Ben. Ell! 

Omnes ('» succession). Go on — go on, Mr. Benedict — go 
on. 

Ben. Ha — ha — poor fellow, he has nothing to remember 
her by, not even her name, except the memory of a dozen 
warm kisses 

Lucy. Ah! (sc'-eams). 

Omkes {in concert, with great vigour). Go on — go on, Mr. 
Benedict — go on. 

Ben. Wliieh he pressed upon her lips. 

Lucy. A-h ! 

Virginia and Effie. Ha— ha — ha— ha! 

Effie. She was certain he had a moustache. 

Ben. Why, the lady is not well {Lvcy falls into his arms). 

Effie. Let's every one of us faint ! 

[^General movement. Carter up r. and down c, whei'e 
Effie and Virginia //ill into his arms. Meantime 
Mrs. AIjSTo^ fulls into VANDERrooL's arms. He sees 
Mrs. Vandeepool stacfgering. BENEDICT tosses Mrs. 
Castes to Ered. Vanderpgol tosses Mss. Alston to 



ACT 3.] SARATOGA. 35 

Benedict, and Mrs. Vanderpool falls heavily into 
Vandeefool's arms. Picture. 

VEBY QUICK CUHTAIN. 

ACT III. 

Scene, — Wondland. Picnic ground on the shore of Saratoga 
Lake. Foliage profuse. 

Picnic party discovered. Remnant of repast. A cloth laid 
out, C, uuth cliirlien, hread-plates. knives and forks, some 
cold meat, wine cooled tvith champagne. Vandeepool 
opening bottle of champagne, L. c. Grr dodging co>k, 
Weth. and SiK MouT., E., offering wine to Effik, who is 
seated on stump r. up stage. Mrs. Van. staled on an ck, 
L. 3. E. Mrs. Carter, e. ofc. ; Carter nt hack walking 
about. Virginia and Littlefield seatid on bank, h. 1. E. 
Ogden and Livingston seated, r. 1. e., on bank. 

Music at rise. — A ballnd sung on one of the ladies, with chorus 
by all. 
VaW. {pouring wine). Ha, lia, lia. This is the merriest 

■ lay I've had in many a year. Mrs. Vanderpool, allow me — 

'•an I trouble you for another glass, Lucy? Thank you, my 

'lear. Sliall I fill it for you ? 

LucT (r. c). No. tlinnk you, Mr. Vanderpool. 

Van. "Uncle" Vanderpool, my denr. 

Lucy. Uncle Vanderpoo'. I'll not take any more wine, 

thank you, " uncle." I prefer water. 

Van. That's right, my dear, water was made before wine, 

;ind is better for you young folk. But we old coons need a 

little stimulant now and then, don't we, Carter? Don't we, 

Mrs. Vanderpool ? 
Mrs. Van. Mr. Vanderpool, I am not an " old coon.' 
Van. I'll not insist upon the "coon," my dear. 
Carter. Mrs. Carter, it is getting late, we had better re- 

I urn to the carriages. 

Enter Ben and Mrs. Alston r. 1. E., come forward c. 
Ben {looking at watch). Exactly half-past five, we agreed 

to 1)6 home at half-past six. We must 

Mrs. Alston. We haven't to meet a railroad train — tliere 

is pleniy of time, we will continue our stroll, Mr. Benedict 

{ijning L.) 

Ben But, my dear, we agreed to return before half-past 

six — and — and— 

Mrs. Alston. And we shall do nothing of the kind. I am 

f;oing down the path in this direction — there is a very pretty 
aiie. Don t mind us, Mrs. Vanderpool. Mr. Benedict and 
I have a carnage of our own, you know. 



36 SAEATOGA. [aCT 3. 

Ben. But my dear Olivia — we agreed to — we promised 

Mbs. Alston, /am going in tliis direction. [JExit "L. 

Ben. I— ahem {tvavers) — somehow or other I never can 
keep an appointment now. I can't be regular in anything. 

[Exit after her. 

LiTCY {suddenly sta?-ting). Oh ! 

Van. Eh! (comes to het^). 

Carter. What is it, my darling 1 

Lucy. I thought I heard a gun. 

Van. a gun ] 

Lucy. I was always afraid of guns (a distant gun heard). 
There — yes— I was certain of it. There is somebody hunt- 
ing in these woods. 

Carter. iS'onsense, my love, they are not hunting for such 
little tame ducks as you. 

Lucy (puuttng). I am not a little tame duck, I nearly 
fainted once when I heard a gun, anywiy. 

Van. There, there my little pet— Uncle Vanderpool won't 
let anybody hurt it, to be sure. (Pats her under the chin 
and kisses her. Mrs. Van. checks him. Carter disgusted). 

Effie (suddenly). I want some wine (holds glass). (Sir 
Mort. and Weth. both run, one with sherry the other with 
claret, ivhich they getjrovi Gyp). 

Weth. Claret, l^liss EfRe ' ) . ,; 

Sir Mort. Sherry, Miss Kemington % ) wr/emer. 

Effie. Thank you, gentlemen, but I never take wine 
-fixed ; I prefer it " straight '' (l)oth gentlemen come down 

oivning at each other). Well, aren't you going to give m'l any 
wine at all ] (They hasten back, she holds out tivo glasses, Sir 
Mort. pours in L. and Weth. r.) That's what I call 
" neutrality." 

[LvcY directs Gyp to gather up the things; he and 
Van. commence jKirking them in targe basket. 

ViRG. (l.). You have read so many books, Mr. Little- 
field. 

Littlefield. I have read more from your ej'es. Miss Vir- 
ginia, than from all the books I ever owned. You have 
opened a volume to me in which I find a new philosi>phy. 

Van. Come, Yn-ginia, they are gathering up the things to 
return. 

ViRG. (r.) (rising). Mr. Littlefield and I will return before 
the carriages are ready ; papa, we will only stroll down into 
the dell and back. 

Littlefield. Besides, Miss Virginia and I came in a car- 
riage of our own, you know. [Exeunt arm in arm R. 1. E. 

Van. (aside). Virginia and Mr. Littlefield have been sit- 
ting under that tree by themselves all the afternoon. That 



ACT 3.] SAEATOGA 37 

looks like business. I only hope the little gipsy isn't flirting 
with him. 

Effie. There, Sir Mortimer, you carry that {giving him 
shaivl). Wethertree, you carry this (gives him goblets and nap- 
kins). 

Van. Here Gyp, take that basket. I'll carry this {takes 
bucket with wine). Mrs. Vauderpool, we will let the young 
folks bring each other. 

[Exit Gyp, Mk. and Mrs. Van., Mr. Carter and 
Lucy, l. 3. and^ 2. e. 

Effie {seeing table-cloth). Oh! Mr. Wethertree, there's 
the table-cloth {throws it over him). Sir Mortimer, you 
carry that {gives him basket), Mr. Wetliertree, there's the 
water pitcher — Sir Mortimer, there's a fork — that's enough 
— now come along. 

[A'xit zotVA Weth. and Sir Mort. ; as she is going out 
she first takes the a- m of one, then stops suddenly and 
takes the arm of the othc cdso. 
Lie-enter Lucy, l. 3 e. 

Lucy. I think they've got everything — it won't hurt to 
look, however {looks about on grass, &c.) Let me see, the 
silver cream pitcher— I wonder if that was put in either of 
the baskets— I came near forgetting all about it {looks R, and 
L.) {Gun fired R. 2. 'E.) 

Lucy {screams). Oh ! 
Enter Sackett backwards, a short gtin in his hands in full 
hunting gear looking offR. 

Sackett. Egad, she's fluttering— a second shot will bring 
her down. {J' ires gun agcnn.) 

Lucy {screams). Oh ! {staggering ; Sackett turns in time 
to catch her with Lucy in his arms). 

Sackett. Another duck, by Jove ! No — it's quite a 
different bird. It's a regular wood nymph ! {He sits up 
stump c, Lucy in his arms). Oh, can I believe my eyes, 
certainly I can. The fairy of my dreams. The unknown 
angel who fell into my arms from heaven itself -or rather 
from a one-horse buggy, near the Mansheld Mountain House, 
in Vermont. Those lips, how well I i emember them. Deli- 
cious burden (kisses her). 1 once took a course of medical 
lectures, and I remember among other instructions, that in 
case a lady fainted, it was always best to move her as little 
as possible. I shall allow her to remain in the place in which 
she originally fell. 

Mrs. Van. {without l. ). Lucy, my dear ! 

Sackett {looking left). There's another wood-nymph. 
Re-enter Mrs. Van. l. 3. e. 

Mbs. Van. Why, something must have happened. 



38 SARATOGA. [aCT 3. 

Sackett. It's an elderly wood-nymph — Eh ? By Jove, 

it's Viiginia's mother. 

Mrs. Van. (going io Lucy). Why, the poor child has 
fainted. Our carriage is at the foot of the hill — Oh, sir— if 
yon will run and get some water immediately. 

Sackett. Impossible, madame — 1 am a doctor of medi- 
cine, and I cannot allow the lady to be removed from the 
plsce in which she originally fell. 

Mrs Van. I will go, then— you will be very careful nf 
her. doctor. 

Sackett. I shall give her the most devoted attention, 
nxndani. 

[h'xii Mrs. Van. l. 3. e. 

Carter [withotd L.). Lucy, my dear Lucy {entering L. •/. 
E.). Why, darling {rushing to her). My dear— dear girl— 
I 

Sackett {pushing him away). Will yru oblige me, sir. 
by keeping at a more respectful distance— d m't you see the 
lady needs air? {Aside) This is the wood-nymph's papa ! 

Carter. Well, sir—if it's all the same to you, sir, I will 
take your place. 

Sackett. But it isn't all the same to me, sir. I am a 
doctor of medicine, and the lady mu?t not be removed fioai 
the place in which she originally fell. 

Carter. But— confound it, sir, I am the lady's 

Sackett. I understand, sir, you are the lady's father 
(Carter turns away angrily '. Your anxiety is natural. 
You will find a spring of cold water about a mile and a quar- 
ter down the path in that direction — and — (pointing R. 2. E.) 

Carter. A mile and a quarter {going R. stops). I'll be 
back in less than live minutes ! 

[Exit hastily R 2. E. Lucy recovers. 

Lucy (l.). Why— why, where am 1 1 

Sackett. You are in the woods, my dear. But you are 
still weak {she tries to get up— he presses her back). I don't 
think it advi.sable to remove you from the place in which 
you originally fell. 

Lucy. But — but {breaking from him, rising and going L. C.) 
Oh — I remember. There was a gun — then another gun 

Sackett {rising). I beg your pardon — there was only one 
gun ; the gun had two barrels. I was hunting for ducks. 
As 1 reached this spot I discovered a very beautiful one — I 
would say, a very beautiful young lady. I had barely time 
to reach her — before she fell into my arms and 

Lucy. And you 

Sackett. I allowed her to remain in the place where she 
origiually fell. 



AOT 3.] SARATOGA, S9 

Lucy {recognizing him). Ah ! 

Sackett. She recognizes me ! You remember me, then ] 

Lucy. Oh yes, sir — I — T 

Sackett ( eager/ 1/, and throiving his arm around her waist). 
We met but a moment, it is true, but a moment of such ex- 
quisite joy to me. I — I 

Lucy [struggling). Oh, sir— you musn't. It isn't right. 
I— I — am 

Sackett. Since our first romantic meeting in the moon- 
light your image has been constantly before my eyes. 

Lucy. Oh, sir— you musn't — I 

Sackett. If I hadn't fallen in love with you, I should be 
a marble statue — If I did not express my love, I should be 
an Egyptian mummy— and if 

Lucy (struggling). Oh, sir, it isn't right, I say— It is very 
wrong — I— I am 

Sackett. I know it, my dear, you are an angel [tries to 
kiss her. Unter CxnTEU. He sto^^s suddenly B.., and coughs), 
and by this hand I swear 

Carter. Ahem ! 

Sackett (aside). Egad ! it's the old gentleman. 

Lucy (aside). ISly husband ! 

Sackett (going to Caetkr). I say, my friend, didn't you 
make remarkably quick time to that spring of cold water 
and back 1 

Carter (stern hj). It's very evident, sir. that I didn't re- 
turn too soon. 1 concluded I was a fool before I had gone 
ten rods. This is my 

Sack. Your daughter — I am very happy to 

J^ucY. ]\ly husband. 

Carter (snappishly). Her husband, sir (Sackett recoils 
confusedly ). 

Sackett. Her husband, the devil ! (aside). 1 don't wonder 
he wanted to take my place. 

He-enter Me. and Mrs. Van., has jiail of water, L. 3. E. 

Mrs. Van. Oh ! my dear, you are better again. 

Sackett (aside). Hilio ! Virginia's father [.sitting c.) 

Van'. How was it? Lucy, my dear, you must tell us all 
about it ; how did it happen ] 

Lucy. Why — you see -I— I don't know much about it 
inyself~b— but I heard a gun, and then I heard another 
gun,— 

Sackett (rising). I beg your pardon — there was only one 
gun— it had two barrels. 

Lucy. And then I— 1 don't remember anything else, until 
T awoke and found myself in — in 

Sackett. In the place in which she originally fell 



40 SARATOGA. [aCT 3. 

Mrs. Van. (in Van.'s ear). She found herself in that gen- 
tlem.an's arms. 

Van. Ah! 

Mrs. Van. And the gentleman beiftig a doctor of medi- 
cine — 

Sackett. Yes— being a doctor of medicine— I was able to 
do wlmt was best for her under the circumstances. 

Van. (to Sackett). J\ly dear sir, we owe you a deep 
debt of gratitude. Mr. Carter, I am sure, will never be able 
to express his obligation. 

Carter. Oh ! no. I can't express my gratitude. 

Van. And by-the-way, I hadn't thought of it before— my 
name is Vanderpool. 

Sackett. Eh! Oh! Ahem ! Yes— my name is— ah — 
(aside) what the devil is my name ] Virginia doesn't know 
I'm within two hundred miles of Saratoga — It won't do to 
tell the old gentleman my name — my name is — is — ah — 

Van. Your name is 

Sackett Uvith hesitation between the words). Alphonso — 
della— Madonna— Martinetti. 

Carter. Alphonso — della — Ma — what 1 

Mrs. Van. (i?i Van.'s ear). His name is Alphonso della 
Madonna Martinetti. 

Van. Alphonso della ma who 1 Oh — he's a foreigner. 

Sack. I was born in sunny Italy. 

Van. You speak remarkably good English for a foreigner. 
Have you been long from home '! 

Sack. Fate has consigned me to a life-long exile from my 
native land- and from the palaces of my ancestors. 

Carter. H'm— I suppose he's a prince in disguise. 
A'nter Benedict, l. 3. e. 

Lucy (aside). Oh — I do so love princes in disguise ! 

Ben. Has anything happened 1 1 saAv INIrs. Vanderpool 
running through the woods (seeing Sackett). What— eh — 
why, my dear Bob (Sackett cheeks him). 

Omnes (astonished). " Bob !" (gtneral sensation). 

Carter. He called the prince " Bob !" 

Mrs. Van. Mrs. Benedict — your friend — his name is 
Alphonso della Madonna Martinetti — Bob 1 

Carter. Oh is it — i/o6— Alphonso della Madonna Mar- 
tinetti ] 

Lucy. Perhaps it is Alphonso — Bob — della Martinetti. 

Ben. Alphonso della jNladonna Mar 

Carter. Alphonso della Madonna Martinetti, that is tha 
gentleman's name. 

Sackett. Ahemu^ really I must explain. There is cer- 
tc^.iily some misunderstanding — mv name is- •- 



ACT 3.] SARATOGA. 41 

Mrs. Van. {in Van.'s ear). His name isn't Alphonso 
della Madonna Martinetti. 

Van. Eh 1— it isn't — what is it 1 

Mrs. Van. His name is " Boh." 

Van. ''Jiohr 

Sackett. i — ah— ladies and gentlemen — I — I assure you 
that my name is Alphonso della Madonna Martinetti, but 
they call me " Bcb " — for sJiort. 

Lucy. Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 

Mrs. Van. {in Van.'s ear). They call him " Bob," for 
short. 

Van. Oh, his name is Bob Short? 

Carter. They call you Bob for short *? That is a very 
remarkable concentration of syllables, sir. 

Ben. I — I haven't the remotest idea of what you're all 
talking about — but {aside to Bob) 1 say, Bob, you may as 
well make a clean breast of it, whatever it is. 

Sackett {resif-inedly). Go on— drive ahead ! 

Ben, Ladies and gentlemen— allow me to introduce to 
you my warm personal friend and former schoolmate, Robert 
Sackett, Esq., Councillor and Attorney-at-Law, 121, Cedar 
Street, New York. 

Carter. Attorney-at-Law ! 

Sackett {pulling Ben.'s coat). I'm a Doctor of Medicine, 
Jack. 

Carter {savagely). You will excuse me, Mr. Robert 
Sackett, but 1 do not see why it was absolutely necessary 
that a young lady who had fainted should continue to 
recline in the arms of an " Attorney-at-Law," when all her 
friends, including her husband, were anxious to relieve him 
of the burden. 

Sackett. I assure you, my dear sir, I tried to do what 
was best for the lady under the circumstances. 

Carter. The circumstances are exactly what I object to, 
sir. What the devil do you mean, sir, by assuring us at a 
critical moment that you were a doiior? 

Sackett. My dear sir, I ivas a Doctor— a Doctor— of 
Divinity {he hoivs to Lucv, she bou'ing lotv in retufn). 

Carter. Damn your divinity, sir ! {turns up stage 
angrily). 

Lucv. Oh, Mr. Carter! {following him up). 
Enter Sir Mort., l. 3e., with pillow under each arm, and 
loaded with blankets, (he. 

Sir Mortimer. Mrs. Van der pool, 1 have obeyed your 
instructions — I entered the farm-house, and I captured two 
pillows, a sheet, and a blanket before the proprietors fully 
understood the nature of my errand. 



42 BARATOGA. [aCT 3. 

iiVifff?* WetherTBEE, L. 2. E., with jJtfcher in one hand, large 
basket in the other, carriage cushion iinder each arvi — 
looks R and L. 

Weth. Mrs. Vanderpnol, I've obeyed your instructions to 
the letter— I've brought all the carriage cushions, and a 
pitcher of water, and the basket {sees Sackett). Who the 
devil is thaf? I've seen that face before {goes up L.). 

Sackett. There's another wood nymph. 

Sir Mor. {staring at Sackett). I've seen that face before 
{goes wp R.). 

Sackett. Here's a pair of wood nymphs ! 

Enter Virginia and Littlefield, e. 2. c. 

ViRG. {seeing Robert). Kobert ! 

Sackett. Oh, Lord— Virginia! 

ViRG. My dear Robert ! {rnns to him quickly, E. C. 

Everybody. Her " dear Robert !" 

ViRG. What a delightful surprise ! 

Sackett. Delightful ! 

Van. {confused and anxious). Ahem! — ah, I say, old lady, 
ahem— ah —Virginia — i\lr. Sackett 

Sackett. My darling Virginia ! ( To Van.) I owe you an 
apology, Mr. Vonderpool, and ^Mrs. Vanderpool. I have 
long loved your daughter in secret. 

LiTTi-EFiELD (r., excitedly). He has long loved her in 
secret ! 

Sackett. And her timid blushes confess, sir, that she has 
returned my love. 

Littlefield. She has returned his love ! 

Sackett. And now, sir, I throw myself at your feet. 

I 

Effie enters L. U. E. 

Effie. What's all the fuss about, anyway 1 what's the 
row 1 {sees Robert) Ah, Robert ! {runs to him) My dear 
Robert ! 

Everybody {walking up and dovm stage, excitedly). Her 
dear Robert ! 

Effie. Ah, dear Robert, I didn't know you were in Sara- 
toga. 

ViRG. Your dear Robert ?— he is my dear Robert. 

Effie. Your — 

ViRG. Yes, mine ; he is ray ; he has sworn a dozen 

times 

Effie. Your sworn. Ha! I see it all ! — the perjured 

wretch ! {goes up and down stage, furiously , followed by SiR 
MoRT. and Weth.). 

ViRG. I see il all, sir !— your vows are worthless, sir I 
{goes tip and down stag?, followed by Littlefield). 



ACT 4] SARATOGA. 4B 

Sackett {seizing Ben down c). My dear Jack, if any one 
finds a body flcating in the lake — or a pistol-ball through 
the head — or prussic-acid in the stomach — please identify it, 
and have it decently buried {starts R. 2. e., stops, and stag- 
gers back c). 

Enter Mrs. Alston, r. 2. c. 

Mr«. Alston (r. c). Ah, my dear Robert ! 

All. Hek dear Robert ! 

Carter. Egad ! he's everybody's dear Robert ! 

Sackett {reeling to Ben.). I say, Benedict, there's my 
vridotv ! 

Ben. Youi widow !— the devil it is ! That's my widow ! 
( pushes him off, and 7-ushes up and down stage furious ; 
Effie, Virg., and others lualk up and down as before). 

Sack, {to Carter). My venerable friend, support me. 
(Carter staHs off' up and doivn stage indignantly). Ladies 
and gentlemen, please allow me to remain in the place in 
which I originally fell. {Drops on stage, c. Weth. and Sir 
MoRT. throiv blankets and sheets on him, which they have 
carried up to this time. Everybody going up and down stage 
in a most excited manner). 

curtain. 

ACT IV. 

Scene. — Parlottrs of the Grand Union, Saratoga, elegantly 

furnished and tipholstered. Table, c, and two chairs, sofas, 

R. and l. Old Rem. discovered sitting R. of table, fanning 

himself; newspaper in his hand. 

Old Rem. {grumbling). Waiter ! they call this travelling 
for pleasure, h— m !— travelling for pleasure — waiter! tra- 
velling — for — waiter ! ! 

Enter Gyp, l. c, fanning himself. 

Gyp (r. o/Old Rem.). Possibly I can do suffin for you, 
Bah ! 

Old Rem. Possibly you can. 

Gyp. Did you call for a culled gem'men, sah 1 

Old Rem. Bring me some Congress water. 

Gyp (l.). Oh, yes, sah !— ahem ! certainly, sah— ahem ! 
{standing still). 

Old Rem Well, do you propose bringing it this summer 
or next 1 

Gyp. Beg pardon, sah, but we culled gemmen at Sara- 
toga have made a new rule, sah— we always take it ia 
advance now, sah. 

Old Rem. Oh, you always take it in advance now {give» 
him currency). 



44 SARATOGA. [aCT 4. 

Enter Muffins and children up stage. Muffins gives the 
children water from silver pitclier up R. 

Gyp {going— stopjs). Beg pardon, sah, but this is a ragged 
one, sail ; we culled gemmen of Saratoga have made a new 
rule, sah ! 

Old Rem. M— m. I am sorry to have put a coloured 
gentleman to so much trouble {gives him another). There ! 
take that, you rascal, and bring me some Congress water. 
{Exit Gyp, l. c). Ahem I they call this travelling for plea- 
sure ! 

Little Boy. Where is mamma to-day, IMufRns 1 

Muffins. Your mother is at the races, my darling. 

Little Girl. We have hardly seen mamma at all since 
yesterday morning. Where was mamma last night, when 
we were going to bed ] 

jNIuffins {coming doivn). Getting ready for the ball. 

Little Girl. And where is papa, Muffins " 

Muffins. Your father is at the races, too. 

Little Boy. Where was papa last night ] 

Muffins. Where was your father last night? I don't 
know any more about that than your mother does, my 
darling. What uncomfortable questions these children do 
ask. to be sure ! [Exit ivith children, h. 2. E. 

Old Rem. Travelling for pleasure ! A man might as 
well be in a brick oven, with a warming-pan under his feet, 
and call it "travelling for pleasvire " {going c.)- Whew! 
(Gyp, entering, runs against Old Rem., who jmshes him. 
aside). Get out of my way, rascal — do ! [Exit, R. c. 

Gyp {indignantly). That individual is wantin' ii? proper 
respeck for culled gentility. De gemmen what is in good 
humour at Saratoga gives me fifty cents, and say, "Gyp, 
you rascal, go and take a drink ; ' and de gemmen what 
isn't in good humour say, "Gyp, you rascal, get out of my 
way, you rascal !" We culled gemmen at Saratoga is rascals, 
whichever way you put it. [Exit Gyp, r. 1. e. 

C Enter Virginia, rapidly, as if just from her carriage, 
followed hy Fkank Littlefield. tihe is nervous and 
angry. 

Littlefild. I'll do anything for your sake, my darling 
Virginia — scale the Alps — find the North Pole — 

Virginia (?('a//a«(7 back and forth angrily). I don't want 
the North Pt)le. 

Littlefield. Pierce the deep empyrean of the vaulted 
arch — 

Virginia. I don't want you to pierce the deep empyrean 
of the vaulted arch. 

Littlefield. Meet the tiger in his secret lair— 



ACT 4.] BARATOGA. 45 

ViRCxiNiA (r.). Oh, you needn't fight the tiger on my 
account. 

The Major {strolling in quietly, L. 1. E.). The tiger! — 
that interests me. Mr. Vanderpo(il is excited {;up l., quietly). 

Virginia. Frank Littletield, if your professions of love 
for me are true 

LiTTLEFi ELD (l. raising, his hand as if to sivear) . Trn e — I — 

ViEGiNiA (r.). If you have one spark of honourable man- 
hood 

LiTTLEF. Manhood ! — I swear— — 

Virginia (l.). If— if Challenge Robert Sackett to 

mortal combat ! 

The Major. There's been a row ; this is particularly 
interesting— i will offer my own services. 

LiTTLEFiELD (l.). I wiU, Virginia. If he refuse to fight — 

Virginia. Post him for a coward ! 

LiTTLEFiELD. I will. If he do not refuse - 

Virginia {anxiously). Oh, but he tvill, Frank. I'm sure 
he will refuse. 

LiTTLEFiELD. If he do not refuse— I take my life in my 
hand — too happy — only too happy to lay it down in such a 
cause as that. \^txit, with impressive steps L. 

ViRG. {looking after him). If — if Robert Sackett should 
uccepjt the challenge — perhaps — I — Frank — Frank— 

The Major {tvalking doimi R ). Miss Vanderpool — I beg 
your pardon— no intention of listening, I assure you — but 
— you mentioned the "tiger," just now ; that word attracted 
my attention. I am somewhat familiar with the tiger — in 
fact, I have had many honourable scars ; — you also men- 
tioned Mr. Sackett's name. 

Virginia (l.). {jiatting her foot). I did. Mr. Robert 
Sackett has most grossly insulted me. 

The Major. Indeed— allow me the privilege— Miss Vir- 
ginia. 

Virginia. You will challenge Robert Sackett? {Draw- 
ing up.) Do it ! 

The Major. Your servant, Miss Virginia {raises her hand 
and going l. e.). {Aside) Two millions — and the only 
daughter. I have taken greater risks than that for smaller 
stakes. [Exit h. 1. e. 

Virginia. So — so— Mr. Robert Sackett !— we shall see 
(going uj) L., tvhere she ivalks hack and forth nervously). 
knter Effie rapidly up c. followed by Weth. a.nd Sir Mor- 
timer, Effie stojjs abruptly down L., Weth. and SiB 
M. stumble over each other, she then ivalks R. and L. eX' 
citedly, folloived by the gentlemen ivho stumble over eack 
other as she turns abruptly at each end, 

Weth. But, Miss Effie — - 



4flf SARATOGA. [aCT 4t. 

Sir Mort. Miss— a — eh — Miss Ef-fie 

Weth. {to Sir Mort. at one end of the walk). Get out of 
tny way, sir— (to Effie) — Miss Effie 

Sir Mort. {at other end of toalk). I beg your pardon- 
will you keep out of the way ]— (to Miss Effie)— a— h— Miss 

Ef-fie 

[Each fime they meet they draw up and glare at each 
other, 

Weth. {at ont end). Confound it — sir ! {they draw tip). 
My dear Miss (l.). 

Sir Mort. (r.) {at other end). Dear me, sir ! {they draw 
v,p). My charming Miss ■ 

Effie (r., seizing Sir Mortimer's tvrist and cominf/ up 
suddenly with the air of a tragedy queen). Sir Mortimer 
Muttonleg {breathing heavily and looking over her shoulder 
at Wethertree). I will speak with you presently, Mr. Cor- 
nelius Wethertree (Wethkrtree tvalks l.). Sir Mortimer 
Muttonleg, a word with you in private. You say you ara 
iny slave— that — was —your — language — I be-lieve. 

Sir Mort. Y-e-s — allownie— toassure— you— a— h— Miss 
Effie — 

Effie. On one condition— I will be yours— /(>?• ever. 

Sir Mort. My dear Miss Eifie — I am sure — a-h— you 
delight me, upon my honour — you do. JS ame the condition 
— I shall be only too happy to 

Effie {impressively). Challenge Mr. Robert Sackett to 
mortal combat (Sir MoRTiMER/aZ/s hack R. into chair, Effik 
crosses with tragical manner to Wethertree L. — seizes hia 
wrist suddenly— he starts). Mr. Cornelius Wethertree — a 
word with you in private. You say you are my slave :— that 
—was — your — language — I — be-lieve. 

Wethertree. Your most devoted slave, Miss Effie— I — 

Effie. On one condition — I will be yours — for ever. 

Wethertree. My dear Miss Effie {eager hj), any condition 
in the world — I shall be delighted to 

Effie. Challenge Mr. Robert Sackett to mortal combat. 
[Wethertree falls back l., Effie swings up c. with 
a majestic stride. 

Sir Mort. (aside). Challenge- Mr. — Robert — Sackett — 
to — the — deuce — you know ! 

Wethertree {aside). Challenge — Mr. Robert — Sackett 
— to mortal — combat ! 

[Effie moves down c. with the same grand air. 

Effie (c). Gentlemen ! — I have spoken :— it is enough. 
Retire. 

Weth. (aside). I wonder if there is any danger of 
Backett's accepting a challenge. [Exit l. 1. a. 



ACT 4.] SARATOGA. 47 

Sir Mort. These American girls are the most unaccount- 
•J*)^ creatures. 

{Exit R. 1. E. Effie swings up R., where she move* 
to and fro. 

Enter Carxer, b. 1. E., rapidly, very angry followed hy 
Lucy. 

LrcY. My dear— htskind— will you listen to me, this is 
•madness. 

Carter {ivalking r. and L. fi-ont excitedly). I say, I shall 
insist on satisfaction. 

Lucy. You have been growing more and more furious— 
every step of the way home. 

Carter. And I shall continue to grow more and more 
furious until I have the satisfaction due to a gentleman — a 
dozen warm kisses— madam. 

Lucy. He did not know I was married. 

Carter. A doctor of divinity, madam ! 

Lucy. He took the best possible care of me. 

Carter. Exactly— the place in which you originally fell, 
madam ! Alphonso della Madonna Martinetti — Bob, ma- 
dam ! 

Frederic appears r. 1. e. ; cane in hand, eye- 
glasses, (i'C. 

Frederic. Hillo ! the governor is excited. 

Carter. j\lr. Eobert Sackett, attorney at law, Cedar 
Street, New York — has insulted my wife— madam ! I am a 
gentleman of the old school — I shall insist upon satisfaction 
{moves about nervously). 

Frederic. Eh?— oh— Mr. Eobert Sackett has insulted 
—our wife '\ (Carter stops suddenly— stares at Fred.). Cer- 
tainly—we shall insist upon satisfaction. 

[(/ARTER ^^>a/^•s across tD Frederic, r., takes him hy 
the ear ani Uads him across and out h. 1. e. 

Carter. I should really like to know exactly whose wife 
this is. \Exit L. 1. e. 

Lucy {turnvy^ up stage). Oh ! girls ! here you are. 

Effje. Yes — we ars here. 

[Coming dotvn li., with a provoked air ; ViRO. comet 
doivn L. 

LtJCY (c). Did you hear Mr. Carter? 

ViRG. Yes — we heard Mr. Carter {ivith petulant air). 

Lucy 'c). He was furious all the way home — I thought 
he Would kill the poor horses. Mr. Carter is a gentleman of 
the old sthool ; he insists on demanding satisfrxtion of Mr. 
Eobert Sackett. 

Virginia. Good for Carter ! 

Effie. Hurrah ! for a gentleman of the old school ! 



48 SARATOGA. [aCT 4. 

Lucy. Have you seen anything more of Eobert Saekett ? 

Effie. No, I haven't seen anything more of Mr. Robert 
Saekett — and I don't want to see anything more of Mr.liobert 
Backett — except his funeral. 

LUCY. If he's in Saratoga— I must find him— I will look 
for him everywhere. 

Effie. Yes, you are anxious to find the place in which 
you originally fell, I suppose. I know all about that sort of 
thing — I've been there. 

ViRG. So have I— I know how it is myself. 

Lucy. Oh ! do not quarrel with me now — I am wretched. 
Girls, girls — you do not know the feelings of a wife. 

Effie. No — and we're not likely to know them, as long 
as you can help it. 

ViRG. Tliat's what we're so mad about. 

Lucy. I mvst find Mr. Saekett — I will beg of him — I will 
insist— I— I— I must find Mr. Saekett ! [A'xit c. D. L. 

Effie. Virginia ! 

Virginia. Eflie ! (They kiss arid entwine arms). 

Effie. Let's go up into your room — and lock the door and 
have a good cry— all to ourselves. 

Virginia. Yes! (half sobbing), well get on the bed— and 
well shut the blinds — and we'll — we'll 

Effie {suddenly drawing iqi). No — we won't — no, we 
won't. We won't do anything of the kind. 

ViRG. Why— wh — what else can we girls do under circum- 
stances like this ^ 

Effie. I'll tell you what we'll do : — we won't let anybody 
know we care anything about it — we'll go and get dressed— 
and we'll come down into the drawing-room, exactly as if 
notliing had happened, and we'll talk and flirt and smile and 
look pretty, and say silly things to the gentlemen, just as we 
girls always do at Saratoga. [I.'cL'eunt arm in arm, c.v. 

Enter Mrs. Alston, l. 1. ■&., folloived by Benedict. 

Benedict (l.). But, my dear madam ! — 

Mrs. Alston. Very well — Mr. Benedict — very well. You 
have my ultimatum, Mr. Eobert Saekett has grossly insulted 
me — if you really love me, as you say you do, and are a man, 
as you profess to be by your clothes — you will demand an 
explanation. 

Ben. But, my dear Olivia 

Mrs. Alston. Dont call me your "dear Olivia," sir, 
until you have taken satisfaction — in somo form — of Mr. 
Robert Saekett. 

Ben. But Bob is my bosom friend. 

Mrs. Alston. Oh, very well, sir ; if you would rather 
have Mr. Saekett as a " bosom friend" than myself, you are 
welcome to the choice. 



ACT 4.] SARATOGA. 49 

Ben. He has been my companion. 

Mes. Alston. If you prater Mr. Robert Sackett as a 
" companion " 

Ben. My classmate in college — my crony — 

Mrs. Alston. If you prefer Robert Sackett as a '' crony.'' 

Ben. My room-mate. 

Mrs. Alston. It you prefer Mr. Robert Sackett as a — 
ahem — 

Ben. The code of honour belongs to the middle ages. 

Mrs. Alston. The grand old. middle ages — when men 
were men — and women liad protectors. 

Ben. Civilization, madam ! — the code of honour is a relic 
of barbarism. 

Mrs. Alston. A little more middle age barbarity and a 
little less " modern civilization ' would improve the " gen- 
tlemen " of Saratoga. 

Ben. (l.). 1 should be making a fool of myself. 

Mrs. Alston. Your friends might not fail to recognize 
you on that accomit. 

Ben. I— I might, perhaps, punch Bob's head. 

Mrs. Alston. Uh — very well— if modern civilization will 
allow you to " punch '' the young man's head— do it by all 
means. 

Ben. But, my dear Olivia — I don't think Bob wonld — in 
fact — it's ten to one he will cheerfully resign all claim npon 
yourself to me — and 

Mrs. Alston. Indeed — indeed! So I am to be passed 
from one owner to the next like a thoroughbred race-horse — 
after the races are over. I'm to be bargained for and de- 
livered — according to contract — my good points guaranteed 
— warranted sound— sold and delivered free of charges — 
halter — blanket— and harness to go with the animah 

\^Exit angrily, E. 1. B. 
Enter Sackett, l. 1. e. 

i:>EN. {toithout seeing Sackett, ivho is looking out cautiously 
at the various entrances). Confoundedly awkward for me— 
the widow is as peremptory about her orders as a colonel of 
a regiment on dress-parada. 

Sack. Jack. 

Ben. You here. Bob— 

Sack. I — am — here — staunch and true — as the fellow says 
in the " Duke's Motto" — The affairs of my — my heart — have 
arrived at such a peculiar crisis — I consider it necessary as an 
American gentleman— to be on the spot. If I should retire 
to my suburban residence under the present circumstances 
— it would appear like an ignominious retreat, i am here 
to meet the enemy — provided, of course, it doesn't come in 

3 



60 SARATOGA. [aCT 4 

the shape of female petticoats {looking K. and L.) — I shall 
avoid the enemy in that shape — if 1 have to run for it. 

Ben. Bob! — [ have been commissioned by Mrs. Olivia 
Alston — to punch your head. 

Sack. Do it, Benedict ; — my head is entirely at your dis- 
posal ; punch it by all means, I am a penitent and contrite 
man. I never saw a head which could be punched, with 
so much satisfaction to its owner, as mine, at the present, 
moment. Punch my head by all means. 

Ben. Seriously, Bob— the widow 

Sack. As I told you on a former occasion — the widow was 
an accident — I yield all claim, title, and interest in that 
direction, to yourself. j 

Ben. Oh, I know you would do that— it's all right, Jack,] 
so far as you and I are concerned — but Mrs. Alston — 

Sack. The widow insists on the technical points in the< 
case :— she wants the flag saluted. That's all right — we cam 
manage that. Jack. 

Ben. Manage it — Bob — do you really think I'd better: 
punch your head ] 

Sack. N-o ! On the whole — I — I've thought of a morei 
convenient arrangement. 

Ben. Oh — it's perfectly convenient, Bob,— to me. You^ 
needn't — hesitate on that account. 

Sack. I don't. 

Ben. The widow won't consent to anything less than that^- 
you know. 

Sack, She shall have more. What is the number of your 
room 1 

Ben. No. 73 — private parlour, with bedroom and bathi 
room attached. 

Enter Gyp, r. 1. E., with salver and note. 

Gyp. Mr. Robert Sackett, I believe, sah. 

Sack. I believe so. 

Gyp. Yes— sah — gem-man pointed you out. He requested 
me to present dis note, sah— very important, sah — 

Sack, {leading address). " Kobert Sackett, Esq.'' — that's 
all right. 

Gyp. Beg pardon, sah, but we culled gem-man— at Sara- 
toga — has made a new rule— sah — we takes postage at boi 
ends, now, sah I 

Sack. Oh ! I wasn't aware of the new regulation in then 
post-office department {gives hirn something ; Gyp walks up 
R., s'ops) — the franking privilege has never existed at Sara- 
toga. {To Benedict)— I say — Jack — I'll meet you in youij| 
room, No. 73— in fifteen minutes. We'll make it all right^ 
with the widow, I have a plan that will work to perfectionr 



ACT 4.] SARATOGA. 51 

—get you out of this scrape, and me, too, — and the widow 
more than satisfied. In the meantime — find the widow — 
tell her yon have challenged me to mortal combat. I 
accepted eagerly. Place, your room— time, immediate — 
coffee for two — pistols — and all that sort of thing. 

1!en. I will — Bob — admirable. Ha — ha— ha — the widow 
will think we're perfect savages ! Ha, ha, ha. Captain Jack 
was a Christian — compared with us, and the Spaniards ! 
human beings- I'll tell her— Bob, — I'll tell her— pistols- 
coffee — revenge! Ha, ha, ha! [Exit r. I. k. 

Sack. {foUoiving him up and speahing, R.). And, I say, 
Jack— bid the widow a last farewell before you leave her— 
and don't forget to kiss her a dozen times or so — on my 
account — {turning L.)— I've overdrawn my account already, 
by-the-way, in that direction— but the bank has a remark- 
ably strong capital. 

Gyp (aside). Coffee— and pistols — room No. 73 — dare's 
sum pin wrong — goin on ! shuah ! 

Sack, (reading address of note). " Robert Sackett, Esq." 
{opening it, sees Gyp) — Well— anything more — no more post- 
age due— this is only single weight— I believe 

Gyp. De gem-man tole me to wait for de answer — sah — 

Sack. Ah— (reading). Here it comes. "Robert Sackett, 
Esq." "I have been requested by Miss Virginia Vanderpool" 
— (reads signature) — " Frank Littlefield." Say to Mr. Frank 
Littlefield— that Mr. Robert Sackett will be pleased to meet 
him — let me see (looks at his watch) — it's now just six o'clock 

— I shall be pleased to meet the gentleman at— where the 
ieuce shall I meet him ] Oh, certainly — at private parlour 

— No. 73 — at half-past six pre-cisely. 
Gyp. Yes— sah. 

Sack. Jack may be a little surprised— but he always did 
ike compfiny (turning to Gyp, who i^ deliberately going E. 
J. E.). General Washington- bring me a glass of Congress 
vater (exit Gyp). It is a trifle warm to-day— or else I <xva. 
;etting excited. 

Enter 1st Coloured Waiter, r. 1. b. 

1st Wait. INIistah Sackett. 

Sack. That's my name. 

1st Wait. Gem'man— sah — note, sah — very 'tickler, sah. 

Sack, (taking note). " Robert Sackett, Esq." (hands waiter 
rymething), there's the postage— (rrat/s) " Cornelius Wether- 
ted'" — conduct as a gentleman— insult— explanation — Miss 
iflie Remington— the devil !— say to Mr. Cornelius Wether- 
ree that Mr. Robert Sackett will be happy to meet him— at 
rivate parlour. No. 73, at half-past six precisely. 

1st Wait. Yes— sah (going). 

a— 2 



52 SARATOGA. [aCT 4. 

Sack. Commodore Perry {waiter pauses), bring me a glasa 
©f claret. 

1st Wait. Yes, sah. _ [Exit, L. 1. E. 

Sack. I feel warmer — this is growing interesting. 
Enter 2nd Waiter, r. 1. e. 

2nd Wait. Mistah Sackett 1 

Sack. That's my name. 

2nd Wait. Gem'man, sah — note, sah— very 'tickler, sah. 

Sack. By Jove, I'm getting out of postage — {hands him 
tomething ; takes note). " Robert Sackett, Esq.," " Sir Mor- 
timer Muttonleg" — what the deuce has Sir Mortimer to — 
ehl — "Miss Effie Remington,"— by Jove, she's a little tigress ; 
she's set two of them on me. Say to Sir Mortimer Mutton- 
leg that Mr. Robert Sackett will be happy to meet him at 
private parlour, No. 73, at half-past six precisely. 

2nd Wait, {going). Yes, sah. 

Sack. Ah, Andrew Jackson — {waiter stops) — a glass o» 
Bourbon whiskey straight ! 

2nd Wait. Yes, sah. [Exit, R. 1. E. 

Sack. It is becoming warmer and warmer. Let me see 
— Effie — Virginia — the widow — (counting on his fingers) — if 
they average two apiece, the chances of my passing a com- 
fortable night are not flattering. 

Enter 3rd Waiter, l. 1. E. 

3rd Wait. Mistah Sackett, sah] 

Sack. I am becoming more and more strongly convinced, 
sir, that that is my name. 

3rd Wait. Gem'man, sah— note, sah — very 'tickler, sah. 

Sack, {taking note, and looking sharply at waiter, who u 
grinning at him). No, sir— no, sir. \o\\ have come to the 
wrong m&xx— {turning au'ay) — I am willing to be shot by 
the entire party ; but damn me if I pay any more postage 
on these miserable notes — {reading). Hello 1 — " William 
Carter," '' my wife,'' — I didn't count her ; the man that 
wrote that meant blood at every stroke of the pen. {To 
waiter) Bring me a glass of brandy-and-water — no sugar. 

3rd Wait, {going). Yes, sah. 

Sack. And — ah — Ulysses {waiter stops), say to the 
Honourable Wm. Carter that I shall be happy to meet his 
wife — at private pai'lour — I mean, his wife will be happy to 
meet me — 1 would say, the Hon Wm. Carter— No. 73— half- 
past six— get out— {exit 3rd Wait., L. 1. E.). Egad ! we're 
likely to have quite a party at private parlour No. 73 {going 
E. 1. E.). Thank heaven, I'm through with them now ! 
Enter 4th Waiter, r. 1. e. 

4th Watt. Mr. Sackett, sah'? 

[Sackett tutus, looks at him, leans on the back of a 
chuir deliberaieli/. 



ICT 4 ] SARATOGA. 63 

Sack. Did you address me, General Sherman t 
4X11 Wait. Yes, sah. 

Sack. What was the nature of your remark] I may 
have misunderstood it. 

4TII Wait. Your name is Sackett, I believe, sah 1 
Sack. (c). Sackett — Sackett 'J {taking the fou7- notes from 
his 2>ocket, spreads them out in one hand likea2)ach of cards) 
— I am under the impression that I have seen that name 
iomewliere. 
4th Wait. Gem'man, sah— note, sah— very 'tickler, sah. 
Sackett walks across, takes note, opens it deliberately 
ivith his p)enknife. 
Sack, {reading). " Robert Sackett, Esq. Sir, — You have 
been making love," — the gentleman is correct : I have been 
making love—" to " — hello ! what's this 1 " You have been 
making love — to — my — mother !" {To ivaiter) Senator, that 
note is not for me {folding the note, and handing it back). 
There are some things in the way of making love, which 
even a gentleman can't stoop to. I have never yet been 
guilty of making love to another man's mother {walking L., 
and speaking with the air of a man tittering a weighty moral 
precejjt). 

4th Wait. Must be for you, sah ; de young gem'man 
pointed you out personably, sah. 

Sackett walks back, takes the note. 
Sack, {reading). " Frederick Augustus Carter." Ah, yes ; 
exactly. General Sheridan, you may bring me a glass of — 
ice -water. 
4th Wait. Yes, sah. [Exit, R. 1. e. 

Sack. If Mr. Frederick Augustus Carter should happen to 
come into private parlour, No. 73, 1 shall recall to his 
memory the tender ministrations of his tirdt mother ; the 
young man needs a spanking. 

Lie-enter Gyp, c. b. 
Gyp. Glass Congress water, sah. 
Sack. Eh] oh, yes — I forgot. 

Re-enter 1st Waiter, l. 1. e. 
1st Wait. Glass claret, sah. \>6tands left o/Gyp. 

he-enter 2nd Waiter, r. 1. e. 
2nd Wait. Bourbon whiskey sti-aight, sab. 

[Moves to R. of Gyp. 
Re-enter 3rd Waiter, l. 1. e. 
3rd Wait. Brandy-and- water, sah — no sugar. 
* [Moves to L. of 1st Waiter. 

Re-enter 4th Waiter, l. 3. E. 
4Tn Wait. Glass ice- water, sah. 

[ Takes his place beside 3rd Waiter. 
4 



54 SARATOGA. [ACT 4. 

Sackett stares at each as he enters, and finally standi 
before the row, his bach to the audience, looking from 
one end of the line to the other. 

Sack, {turning to andience). The situation calls for a 
speech. {Ttirns to them) Fellow American citizens — 

All Waiteks. Ya, ha ! ya, ha ! {grinning and recovering 
themselves). 

Sack. Of African descent. 

Unter Major Luddington Whist, l. 1. e. 

Majoe. Mr. Sackett — 

Sack. Eh ? oh — one moment, major. Gentlemen, you 
•will oblige me by taking it all to room No. 7i5. Lett face ! 
forward — file right — march I — file left ! — double quick ! ( The 
waiters flank and march according to orders out L. 2. E.) 
Now, my dear major, I am at your service. 

Effie steps in, se^s Sackett, stai'ts with a quick "Ah !" 
and stands motionless. 

Effie. There is the perfidious wretch himself ! 

Sack, {aside). If Major Luddington Whist comes on a 
similar errand, it means serious work. I wonder if Eflie 
Remington has set him on me, too 1 I have heard that 
{aloud) you wish to see me, major ] 

Major (l.). On a very delicate matter, Mr. Sackett. A 
young lady — 

Effie {aside). Ob, dear ! Virginia set the major on him 
— that means business. 

Sack. I understand you perfectly. Allow me to say, my 
dear major — in all seriousness — that I am ready to meet you 
anywhere, at any time, and with any weapon you care to 
name. If you choose to dispute with me the right to Miss 
Effie Remington's affections, I am entirely at your service, 

Effie. Ah ! seems to be in earnest now. 

Sack. Whatever may be the feelings of that lady, for 
myself I shall defend my own interest in her against all 
comers, until I receive a formal dismissal from her own 
lips. 

Effie. The darling fellow ! 

Major (l.). Really, there is a mistake. You will excus« 
Hie, Mr. Sackett, but we are labouring under a misunder- 
standing. The young lady to whom I refer is Miss Vir- 
ginia Vanderpool. 

Sack. Oh, Virginia Van that's a very different thing. 

Effie. A difi"erent thing ! Oh, — il est chaniiant ! 

Major. Not so different, I trust, that you will refuse the 
Batis 

Sack. Certainly not. Only I had fully resolved in the 
other case to carve you limb from limb. Meet me in pri- 



ACT 4.] SARATOGA. 55 

vate parlour — No. 73 — at half-past six : will that be agree- 
able to yourself? 

Major. Perfectly so ; au revoir, Mr. Sackett. 
Sack. Da — da ! a bottle or two of Roderer, major 1 
The Major. Moet et Cliandon is my favourite. 
Sack. Very well— Moet et Chandon — (The Majoe hoics 
ani exits L. 1. E.) — Teu minutes after six — {lo'iking id his 
Wtitch)— let me see — I must not forget that I have an engage- 
ment at half-past six. [Going u. 1. E. 
Effie (hnirylng fonvard). Robert — Mr. Sackett. 
Sack {tn-ning, sees Effie — hesildtes — hows). Good-after- 
noon, Miss Remington. [He turns to go e. 2. E. 

Emer Gyp, e. 2. B., appearing suddenly. 
. Gyp. Mistah Sackett. 

Sack. Private parlour — number seventy-three — half-past 
six — whoever it is. YExit E. I. B. 

Effie. Robert {moving to e. I.e.) — Robert ! 

Elder Mes. Alston rapidly e. 1, B. 
Mes. Alston. Oli ! Effie ! 

Enter Vjrgixia rapidly. 

Vibginia. Oil — Effie — Mrs. Alston • 

Enter LuCY L. 2. K. lapidly. 
Lucy. Effie— Virginia— Mrs. Alston! 
Effie. Oh — Virginia— Lucy — Olivia ! 

[Ladies moving to and fro. 
Mes. Alston. Oh — Jack— my dear Jack — my first love! 

[Sinks into a chair c. 

Virginia. Frank — my last love! [Sinlis beside her l. 

Lucy. My husband ! [Sinks beside her b. 

Effie {standing hack of her chair c). Robeet !! j'aime — 

que toi — my only love I 

[Ladies all choke, and then burst into simultaneous sobs. 
Picture. 

CUETAIN. 

END OF act FOUETH. 

ACT V. 

Scene. — Private parlour, Nnmher 73. Handsomely JurnisKed. 
Doors B. 2. e. and L. c. back. A large wwdndje or dresser at 
back C. Entrance door, l. 3. E. Ttddf c, tvithopen pisiol- 
cases ; box of cigars. Trag of champagne and cooler, pdcher^ 

Di-iciirered at rise of curtain, 'Be'S'EDICT arranging things on 
table. 

Benedict. Ha — ha — ha ! — I've fixed it so far with the 

4—2 



56 SARATOGA. [ACT 5 

widow; she thinlcs I've ctallentjed Bob — and we're going to 
fight— ha — lia- and when Bob comes he'll tell me his plan — 
I can't imagine how he proposes to carry the thing out —but 
trust Bob Sackett for that — I never was good in matters of 
this kind — they've out of the regular line. I've got the pis- 
tols all riijht {blowing through them). No balls there. I 
wonder what Bob proposes to do. And the champagne — ha 
— ha — ha! We'll have a jollv tim^ at all events. {Knock.) 
Come in {Opens the door. Enter Gyp, followed hy all the 
othtr wniters, iv'tth their soluer and tumblers. They stop in 
line up stiije). Eh — what the deuce! 

Gyp. Coiigi-ess water, sah. 

\st Wa.it. Claret, sah. 

2iid Wait. Bourbon whiskey straight, sah. 

Zrd Wait. Brandy and water, sah — no sugar. 

Aith Wait. Ice water, sali. 

\Theii all put dacn their lumhler and fall back to line, 

Ben. Well, wluit the deuce 

Sack, {entervn; l. 2. E.). Here I am, Jack. Hello — you 
liave company, I see. 

Ben. I - should — say — I — had. Where the deuce did 
thev come from ? 

Sack. All rig'it. Jack — It's only my bodyguard. Here 
you are, King William {inres Gyp a hill), divide that with 
the r. st of the army. Left face, forward, march ! 

\_Thr7/ march out L. Gyp hesitates at door. 

Gyp. Suffin's tip luaii— surtin. Gem'inen doesn't have 
pistols and dem tings all for nnilin. Suffin's wrong up in dis 
iieah room — sartin. I'll tell somebody, shuah. [^Exit L. 2. k. 

Ben. Well — now, Bob, tell me the re<t of your plan. The 
Tvidow is all right. She understands that I have demanded 
satisfaction of you, and that you have accepted the cludlenge. 

Sack. (k.). Very well. Tlie rest of the plan is the simplest 
thing in the world. In the first place — you, of course, 
haven't the least desire to shoot me. 

Ben. Certainly not. 

Sack. And I iiaven't the h^ast desire that you should. I 
Bay, Benedict, you are certain there aren't any bullets ia 
these pistols? 

Ben. Not a chamber in either of them would kill a fly on 
the wall at two paces. 

Sack. Good. I haven't the least objection to what they 
call the "sme 1 of powder." It isn't the smell of powder [ 
object to ; it's the bullets. As I was about to say — I will 
take one of these pistols. I will put a ball in it, and I will 
shoot you in the arm or leg — or anywhere else you choose— 
do you see P 



ACT 5.] SARATOGA. 57 

Ben. No. I don't think I do see it. 

Sack. Simplest thing in the w orld. I shoot you in the arm 
or leg ; you send for a surgeon ; dangerously wounded, you 
know. Mrs. Alston hears that you have risked your life in 
defence of her honour ; slie flies to your bedside, nurses you 
through a fever, and marrifs you as soon as you get out of 
your room. Nothing could be simpler. 

Ben. Yes — the plan is certainly simple enough. 

Sack. You may lose an arm or a leg. ray desir fellow ; but 
you will gain a widow. I speak as a Irieud, Benedict, inter- 
ested in your happiness, and willing to do anything that will 
tend to that result. 

Ben. {nsiny). Yes, my dear Bob. Your friendship affects 
me to tears. 

Sack. Don't mention it, old boy. Twenty minutes afier 
six ; it is nearly time for my numerous guests to make the.r 
appearance; — by-the-way, Benedict — I have taken a slight 
liberty. I have no room as yet in Siratoga. 1 asked a friend 
who lias a grievance in connection with these recent little 
female affairs of mine — to drop in here at half-past six. 

Ben. Oh — certainly — the room is entirely at your dis- 
posal. 

Sack. In fact — I — I asked several friends to come in. I 
didn't keep track of the exact number. It did occur to nie 
that it might sui'prise you a little - but 

Bkn. My dear Jack — I assui-e you that nothing in t'ue 
world tliat you might do would surprise me in the lea.-t. 
{Knock L. 3. E.) There's one of your " friends '' now. 

\_Knock<i(iitiii. 

Sack. He seems determined to be in time — I say. Bent- 
diet, if you'll retire to 

Ben. Certainly. This is your affair— only if you need my 
assistance. Bob 

Sack. I shall certainly call upon you. 

[Benedict exits L. 2. E. Knock. 

Sack, {opening door). Walk in, sir. 
Enter quickly Mej. Carter, 'tnilh opera cloak L. 2. E. 

Sack, {starting back). Eli? {she throws buck her clo"'') 
Mrs. Carter. 

Lucy. (r.). Oli ! Mr. Sackett. I know all. 

Sackett (l.). Mrs. Carter knows all. 

Lucy. Mr. Carter has challenged you to mortal combat 
(sees pistols), pistols ; four pistols ! Mr. Sackett, — my dear 
Mr. Sackett. 

Sack, {aside). "Dear Mr. Sackett," — this is po.sitivcly 
enchanting, to have a lovely woman like this so anxious lot 
my personal safety. 

4-^ 



58 SARATOGA. [aOT 5. 

Lucy. I have sought your room at the risk of my reputa* 
lion — Oh ! sir, for my sake, if not for your own — do not. 

Sack. " For her sake '' — these women are angels. For 
your sake, Mrs. Carter, I would do anything {i-iklag her 
hand). Mv dear madam, you need liave no further apprehen- 
sion ; your anxiety for my safety has touched my heart, but 
I'm not in the least danger, I assure you. 

Lucy {coldly). Sir, — Mr. Sackett, — I was not thinking of 
you, sir. 

Sack, (drawing hack). Eh ? oh ! 

Lucy. I was thinking of Mr. Carter, Mr. Carter's little 
finger is dearer to me than your whole bodv, sir. 

Sack. Why, the little fiend. [Rapid knock l. -2. e.) Hello ! 

Lucy. Oh ! Mr. Sackett, my n-putation — 5!ome one is 
coming, conceal me somewhere — this room (moving r.) 

Sackett (confnintinq her). No — there's a man in that room. 

Lucy {starling back). A man ! — oh somewhere — anywliere. 

Sack. Here, into a wardrobe. (Another knock L. 2. e.) ( tie 
humes her into wardrobe c. She drops opera cloak as ulie enters. 
Sack, opens door.) Come in, sir. (Enter Virginia rapidly, 
bonnet in hand.) By Jove, another woniMn; Virginia. 

ViKG. Oh ! Mr, Sackett, I came at the peril of my reputa- 
tion to repair tlie evil I have done. I was hasty, foolish, 
wicked this morning, but I'm not too late, say I'm not too 
latp. 

Sack. Tears? Virginia is an angel. These women have 
hearts after all. My darling Virginia (goes to her, takes her 
hand). You, alone, of those whom I have loved — as man has 
never loved woman belore — you alone have shown a womanly 
tenderness for my safety. 

ViRG. (taking her hand owaij). Your safety, Mr. Sackett. 
Excuse me, sir — I — I wa^ not thinking of you. 

Sack. She wasn't thinking of me either ! 

ViRG. I was thinking of Mr. Littlefield. 

Sack. Tiiese wonen haven't any hearts at all. 

ViRG. Oh ! Eoberh, Mr. Sickett — you will not meet Frank ; 
you will not risk a life that has become so dear to me. You 
and I can be brother and sister, you know. 

Sack. Y-e-s — and Frank Littlefield will be my brother-in- 
law, I suppose. 

ViKG. Yes, you can be Frank's brother-in-law. 

Sack, (turning to her). My darling sister. 

ViiiG. Robert (thei/ embrace). 

Sack. Kiss your brother, my dear, (Knock l. 2. b.) 

ViBG. Why what was that? (Knock.) Somebody at the 
door; oh, if it should be Frank! He'd never speak tome 
ayain. Is there no other door .' (moving e.) 



ACT 5.J SARATOGA. 69 

Sack, {confronting her). Not in that room, my dear — there 
is a inan in tliat room. 

ViRG. A man. {A knock.) Oh, then I will hide in there 
{ffohig to Wiirdrobe). 

Sack. No, not tliere either — H.ere — {puts her in cloxet t. c. 
S'le drops her bonnet. Knock. SxCKECT opent door). Come in, 
sir. ( Enter Effie rapidly, she throws her scarf on chair). 
Effie! 

Effie. Robert! 

Sack. Good-afternoon, Miss Remin<jfton. (A^Jde) I sup- 
pose .'ifie is anxious for somebody's personal safetv. I aliall 
certainly put in a bullet when I shoot at Mr. Wethertree, 
and I shall blow Sir Mortimer's brains out. 

Effie. I— I was hasty this raorninjj, Robert. I was so 
ansrry — I was very wrong to urge Sir Mortimer and Mr. 
Wethertree to 

Sack, (nside). Exactly — exactly — there it is — but she can't 
do it. I shall annihilate them both. 

Effie. I — I came to your room, Robert — at the risk of 
mj' reputation— to — to 

Sack. Certainly. You came to my room at the risk of 
your reputation to save Sir Mortimer Muttonleg from per- 
sonal danger. I shall car\-e Sir Moriimer Muttouleg joint 
from joint. 

Effie {coquettisfdy). Sir Mortimer is such a delightful 
gentleman, you know. 

Sack, {aside). I shall convert Sir Mortimer into Mutton- 
leg pie, 

Effie. But — I — I — wasn't thinking of Sir Mortimer Mut- 
tonleg. 

S.iCK. Then I shall blovv old Wethertree's brains out — if 
he has any. 

Effie. I— I wasn't thinking of Sir Mortimer Muttonleg 
nor Mr. Wethertree either. 

Sack. Oh! 

Rffie {coquettish Ij/). I — I was thinking of — of — of the 
other one. 

Sack. The — other — one. 

Effie. Ahem — " Caterpillar !" 

Sack. "Butterfly!" [heopens his arms, she runs to him), Ihave 
given up all the others — Virginia, Mrs. Alston, the stranger 
from Vermont. I have given them up with a jest— without 
a sigh — but when you came, Effie— I — I — I felt absolutely 
savage. I never knew how much I loved you until I thought 
you might love another. And now that you are really mine 
at last, I swear 



6C BARATOGA. [aCT 5. 

Efpie. Nay— you have sworn too frequently ali-eady. 

Sack, {turning away). True, Eflae, vou are right; an cver- 
cbanging, eareless, reckless fellow like mvself can never 
make jou happy. 

Effie. Per-haps — not — but — then — you — you might try, 
you know. 

Sack. Yes— I will try, and now please let me swear — ^just 
once. 

Effie. Well, then, you may swear once ; but, mind yoa, 
onlv once, for ever. 

Sack, {raising his hand). Then I swear {knock L. 2. e.) — 
Dnrnn that door ! 

Effie. Oh, somebody's coming ; if it sliould be fatlier, 
he'd be in such a rage— or some other gentleman — conceal 
me somewhere (runs r. c.) — here. 

Sack. No — there's a man in that room. 

Effie. A man ! this closet, then {runs to c, starts hack at 
seeing opera cloak. Sack, picks it up and puts it up his back 
under his coat, hnving a portion seen). An opera cloak ; oh! 
Robert, Robert, is there a " man '' in there, too. {A knock L. 
2. E, She runs to L. c, sees bonnet (ind starts hack.) Oh, 
Robert, Robert, did the " man'^ in there wear this {lie seizes 
it and puts it in the breast of his coal, and buttons coat over it. 
Rapid knock L. 2. E.) 

Sack, {opening doo>', R. c). I'll explain all — in here {aside). 
Egad, I'd rather trust her reputation with Benedict than 
with another woman (^tr/^i^* her hand and leads her to loom 
B. c). There's no help tor it, my darling, you must go into 
this room. 

Effie {pnudng). Oh Robert, Robert, if you are deceiving 
me again {he hurries her in R.). 

[Sack, shuts dour, r. c. J\nock h. 2. e. Sack, crosses to 
door. Ben. rushes from his rnam R. c. staring uuldljj. 

Ben. I say, Sackett, what in thunder — you've putaw;t»wa» 
in my room ! 

Sack. Why, confound it, man, you're not afraid of a 
woman ! 

Ben. Ain't I ? What will the widow say ? 

S vCK. My dear fellow, I've chosen your room as a place of 
safety, for her reputation. I have the most implicit confi- 
dence in your honour. 

Ben. (t'lkinij Sack.'s hand). My dear Sackett, you have 
more confidence in me than I have in myself. 

[ Hurrif^s out of door r. c. Rapid knock. 

Sack, {opening door L. 2. e.). Come in, sir. 
Enter Mi<s. Alston rajiddli/ ; Sack, recoils os she enters. 
She drops lace shawl L. C. as she crosses B. 



ACT 5.] SARATOGA. 61 

Sack. Another woman ! 

Mrs. Alston. Mr. Sackett, where's Mr. Benedict? 

Sack, {assuming a very serious air). Alas! my dear Olivia, 
foil are too late ! 

Miis. Alston. Too late— Oh ! heaven ! do not say that. 

Sack. Jack was my friend — my schoolmate, the companion 
of my early years. 

Mrs. Alston. Surely you have not 

Sack. I urged him to reflect— to consider our relations — 

]V[rs. Alston, You have not fought already. 

Sack. Tears came into his eyes, he grasped me by the 
hand 

Mrs. Alston. Oh, this suspense is terrible ! 

Sack. " Kobert," said he, " we are old friends — but you 
have insulted the woman whom I love better than ten thou- 
sand lives " — I think it was ten thousand lives — I forget the 
exact number — " the woman whom I love better than ten 
thousand lives ; she insists upon the satisfaction of a gentle- 
man — I mean the satisfaction of a woman — and I shall 
protect her honour at the expense of friendship, life, every- 
thing that is dear to me." As we raised our pistols — 

Mrs. Alston. Oh heaven ! as you raised your pistols 

Sack. As we raised our pistols, 1 said to him, " Benedict. 
my dear boy — it isn't too late yet ;" but it was too late ; his 
bullet whizzed past my ear, and landed in the wall beyond. 

Mrs. Alston. And your bullet ? 

Sack. My bullet missed my friend's heart — by less than 
eighteen inches. He fell; a surgeon was summoned, and lie 
now lies in the next room in a delirious condition — a victim 
of his love for you, madam, and his devotion to the dictates of 
manly honour. 

Mrs. Alston. He lies in the next room ? 

Sack. He lies in the next room, {aside) and / lie in this 
room. 

Mrs. Alston. I will fly to him at once— I will — 
\_Goes to door E. C. Sack, hurries and places himself betwe. n 
h^r ami door. 

Sack. Not for the world, madam, not for the world — the 
surgeon is with him this very moment. 

Mrs. Alston. OIi, he would rather have me by his side 
than a thousand surgeons. 

Sack. I dare say lie w ould, Mrs. Alston ; but the surgeon 
lias given strict orders that she — I would say that he — mu.sl 
be entirely alone with Mr. Benedict. 

Mrs. Alston. JVlr. Sackett, stand back; Mr. Benedict 
snflpLiing on my account. J insist on flying to his side. 



62 SARATOGlu [aCI 5. 

[^S7ie pushet him aside ; fiies to door ; opens it, and enters 
K. C. Sack staggers to chair K. of table and sinks in it. 

Sack. Oh Lord, ob Lord, now for an explosion. 
[Mes. Alston screams within; Sack, is ligfuing a cigar. 

Re-enter Mrs. Alston, fiJlmccd by Ben., tiying to explain ; 

Ificy walk B. and l. and up and down. 

Ben. My dear 0:ivia ! 

Mrs. Alston. Silence, sir, not a word from you ! Go back 
to your sui'geon, sir ! 

Ben. (b.). " Surgeon !" 

Mrs. Alston (l. to Sack., tchn tnrnx his back, striding his 
chair, as she turns t« him). So this is your '' delirium," sir — 
a '• victim of his love for me, and liis devotion to the dictates 
of manly honour !' — Oh ! 1 could tear his eyes out — and those 
of his '■ surgeon '" too. 

Ben. " Surf>eon !" 

Mrs. Alston {to Ben.). Never speak to me again I— never 
dream of me — never come into my presence ! Go back to 
your " surgeon." 

Ben. " Surgeon !" 

Mrs. Alston. Go back to your *' surgeon," sir ! 

[^She goes to L. 2. e., opening it siiddmli/. Weth. stinnhle* 
in us ifjnst knocking ; he falls in her arms, gathers himsrlf 
up. Exit Mrs. Alston l. 2. e , angrily. 

"Weth. {confused). I beg your pardon ! 

Sack, {to Ben.). Off witli your dressing-gown, off witli 
your dres.^iug-gown. Here's your coat, if you value the 
widow's lovo — this is the critical moment — attack the enemy 'h 
batteries— horse, foot, and artillery. 

Ben. But, Sackett, I dare not face a woman — and particu- 
larly a widow — in such a condition as th;it. 

Sack. JNTonsense ! be a man. A wom;in in a passion is a 
woman at her weakest moment. Confront her — meet her 
face to face ; strike now or never ; the victory's yours. 

Ben. {hurrying). 1 am leaping into the very jaw of death , 
say a prayer for me. old boy. 

[^He opens door Jj. 2. Y. suddenly; SiB MoBT. stumbles in, 
as ij' knocking. Ben. thruws him across stage E. md 
ruslies out. 

Sir iVl ORT. Beg pardon, sir. 

Sack. (c). Gentleraen, I've been waiting for you. It is 
exactlj' twenty minutes before five ; don't apologise, however. 
The coroners Jiaven I arrived yeA. 

SieMokt. Coroners! 

Sack. I left word for a couple of coroners to drop in about 
this time ; they are a little late — but it docBn't matter— the 
corpses are not quite ready. 



ACT 5.] BARATOGA. 63 

Weth. Corpses ! 

Sack. The undertaker will disappoint us, I fear. Tlio 
coffins will be all right — two of them — with silver-plated 
handles. 

b^iB MoET, Coffins ! — silver-plated handles ! 

Sack. But he has only one hearse to spare ; do you object 
to riding double, gentlemen ? 

VV'eth, Riding double ! 

Sib Mort. Riding double ! 

[Effie looks out, soeiirns, and shuts door. Weth. and Sin 
Mo'RT. stmt and s/aifR. JjVCY looks from closet c. Weth. 
and Sir Mokt. turn and stare upstage. All look round in 
amazement. 

Sack. Gent'emen, this is a very remarkable room; it is 
known as tlie Echo Clianibcr. 

Weth. Those were \ cry remarkable echoes. 

Sir Mort. Tliose echors do business apparently on their 
own responsibility ; they are entirely independent of any 
original sound. 

\\ eth. Mr. Sackett. I called at your room at the appointed 
hour, in the hope that we might arrange our difficuUies upoa 
a mutually satisfactory basis. 

Sir Mort. Exactly the same with myself; the relations 
which Miss Remington bears towards me 

Weth. {s/ia>pli/). Miss Remington don't bear any relations 
towards 3'ou at all, sir ! 

SiB Mort. I beg your pardon. Miss Remington consented 
to be the wife of my bosom, the day before yesterday after- 
noon. 

Weth. I beg ^/onr pardon ; you are mistakenin the bosom. 
Sir Mortimer. Miss Remington consented to be the wife of 
ni7/ bosom. 

Sir Most. My dear fellow — it was my bosom, I assure 
you. 

Weth. My bosom, I will swear. 

Sack. Ah, gentlemen, let us settle the matter at once; 
how lucky it is that I have the weapons at hand. Here is 
something for each of your bosoms. Here you are, Mr. 
Weihertree — iiere j^ou are, S\rM.orl\mcr {/ia)ids them pistols). 
Pvo preliminaries are necessary. One of these pistols is 
loaded with ball, the other is not. "You will take your place 
there, Mr. Wethertree. Sir Mortimer, you will stand there. 
You settle with each other, and I will settle with the sur- 
vivor. [^Scream. 

LccY, Effib, and Virginia (peeping out). Oh! they're 
going to fight. Ah ! {tctjri/ter). [A knock. 



64 . SARATOGA. [aCT 5. 

Enter Littlefield. 

Lhtlefield. Sorry to have detained you, Mr. Sackett, I 
was unexpectedly detained. 

Enter Major, l. 2. e. 

Majob. Better late than never, my dear Sackett. Ah ! 
you have not forgotten tlie nine, I see. 

\_Goes to R. of table and pours out wine. 

Enter Carter and Feedertck, with pistolcasp, l. 2. e. 

Carter (l. c). Open the box, Frederit-k. laninot toolate, 
1 see. Mr. Sackett, you are prepared, I suppose, to give 
me the satisfaction of a gentleman. 

Enter G\v , followed by Mr. and Mrs Van. and old Rem. 

Gyp. Heah dey is, gemmen, pistols and cigars. I know'd 
suiEn was up. 

Van. (l. c). Mr. Sackett, Carter, Sir Mortimer, Major, Mr. 
Wetlieriree, Littlefield. 

Mrs. Van. {on opening box). Ah ! pistols — more pistols. 
Gentlemen, what does this mean ? 

[Van. seex slunvl dropped hy Mrs. Alston. 

Van. [piclciiig up sliawl). Eli, what {lo'kf all rmind). 
This doesn't belong to any of you gentlemen, I suppose ? 

l^All still e lit xhaivl, then at Sack. 

Mrs. Van. A lady's shawl in Mr. Sackett's private apart- 
ment. I am positively shocked. 

Old Rem. M'm, so am I. 

Weth. It doesn't b long to me. 

SiK Moet. Nor to me. 

Sack. Eh ! oh— a shawl \ that's very odd. How did I 
happen to leave that shawl it/ this room ? 

Van. M'm, I'm not quite certain that you did leave it in 
this room. 

Old Rem. (l.). I think myself there is some doubt on that 
;,>oint. 

Sack. (c). That shawl is one of the most valuable memen- 
toes in my possession. 

Van. Ah! 

Old Rem. M'm. 

Sack. I wouldn't lose that shawl for the world. 

Van. Oh, I dare say not. 

Sack. I— I often take that shawl out of my trunk when 
1 ;un alone, and no one by to interrupt the sweet memories 
Wiiich float into my brain. I unfold that shawl with all the 
idiiderness of early manhood, and as I contemplate its folda 



ACT 5.] SARATOGA. 65 

I think of her whose shoulders it once adorned. My poor 

old aunt ! {He ivalks r.) 

Sim. j\I. Ahem ! 

Old Rem. Gammon ! 

Carter. Stuff and nonsense \ 4^„„.i^„ 

Weth. Very likely \together. 

[The three old gentlemen j^unching each other in the 
ribs, L. c] 

Van. M'm— y-e-s^he— he— he— it belonged to his aunt. 

Fred. I notice I'd like an aunt or two of the same kind. 

Major {at back of table— raising glass). Gentlemen, 
here's a glass to the memory of Mr. Sacketts aunt. 

Weth. {to Sir M.). I say, Sir Mortimer, the shawl belongs 
to one of those echoes. 

[Sackett sees Effie's scarf, snatches it 'up, and crams it 
into his coat-tail jiockei, leaving pa7~t exposed, just in 
time to escape detection as they all turn to him. He 
walks c. 

Sack. When I was a very little boy 

Carter. When they called you Bob for short. 

Sack. Yes, my aunt always called me " Bob." I was left 
an orphan when I was a very little boy. My aunt was more 
than a mother to me ; I was left in her care. She brought 
me up. 

Van. M'm, I can't say much for the way she did it. 

Sack. (c). I remember one day, when I was a very little 
boy, my aunt laid her hand upon me. 

Old Rem. M'm. I don't think your aunt laid her hand 
upon you quite often enough when you were a little boy. 

Sack. Oh, yes, she did. I shall never forget that woman 
as long as I live. I shall never forget her as long as I have 
any feeling in my heart, or in any other part of my body. 
{Walks L., the old gents together laughing as before.^ 

Old Rem. Ha — ha. i say -if he'd only had six or eight 
more aunts when he was a very little boy. 

Van. And if they'd all have laid their slippers on him in 
stead of their hands. 

Carter. Egad, he wouldn't be so partial to the female 
eex and other popple's wives. j 

Sack (c). Gentlemen, it may be a laughing matter to 
you ; but I assure you, gentlemen, my early memories of my 
aunt arc no laughing matter to me. 

All. Ha — ha— ha {punching each other all round). 

Sack. Gentlemen, there are moments in every man's life 
when the recollections of the past come floating upon the 
memory like aromatic zephyrs from a distant land— 



66 SARATOGA. [aCT 5. 

moments, gentlemen, when one wishes to be alone {signi- 
ficantly). 

All. Ahem! 

Sack. When one longs to be alone. 

All (aside). Yes,— very likely. 

Sack. There .ire moments, gentlemen, when the heart 
comes swelling into the throat 

Van. I should say there were moments also when it came 
swelling into the back. (Rttbs his hand over the back of his 
coat.) 

Sack. Sir ! 

Old Rem. (crossing to L, c). You have a remarkably fine 
figure, Mr. Sackett. 

Sack. Oh, you like my figure. Yes, I always did pride 
myself on my figure. 

[Vanderpool ptdls opera-cloak from under his coat, 
looks at it as the conversation proceeds ; then throws 
it over his arm. 

Mrs. V. (r. of Sackett). I beg your pardon, Mr. Sackett. 
{She pulls a bonnet string which brings Virg.'s bonnet from 
his breast.) Did this also belong to your aunt ? 

Sack. That ! eh ! oh, no ! That belonged to my sister ; 
she was the only sister I ever had, Mrs. Vanderpool. {As 
he sjjeaks Old JEIem. pidls Effie's scarj rrom his coat-tail 
pocket.) 

Old Rem. Did this belong to your sister also, Mr. 
Sackett 1 

Sack, (turning to him). Eh ! That, oh, ahem ! No — that 
belonged to another sister. 
_ Mrs. V. Another sister ! I thought this was the only 
sister you ever had. 

Sack. Oh, yes, certainly that was the only sister / ever 
had. This belonged to another man's sister. 

Van. Egad, I suspected as much ! 

Carter. I could swear they all belonged to " another 
man's sister." 

Major (at table). Here's the very good health of " an- 
other man's sister." 

Mrs. Van. (starting, looking at bonnet). Ah ! Virginia ! 
and it's Virginia's bon'uot ! Where's her head 1 

Van. Eh ] What 1 {Starts xip with her, dropping operas 
cloak.) 

Old Rem. {crosses to R.). Egad, this is Effie's white laco 
scarf. 

C AUTEn (taking up opera-cloak). Eh ]— what ?— Mrs. Car- 
tar's opera-cloak ] 



VS 7 7. « 



ACT 5.] SARATOGA. 67 

[Carter opera wardrobe c. Mrs. Van. opens door l. 
Rem. opens door R. Scream frora all ike youngwomen. 

Carter (r. c). Mrs. Carter herself ! 

Old Kem. (r. c). Tliey call this travelling for pleasure ! 

LiTT. and Major. Virginia Vanderpool ! 

Sir M. Effie Remington, by Jove ! 
Lucy, comhui c , her head doivn, she leans against chair ^. 
Effie and Virg., r. and l., confused. 

Sack. My friends, I— 1 dare say you — you are somewhat 
surprised at 

Old Rem. M'm, yes, somewhat. 

Sack. The ladies— Mrs. Carter, Miss Vanderpool, Miss 
Remington — the ladies— in fact, before the gentlemen ar- 
rived, the ladies all entered this apartment — together. 

Effie, Virg., and Lucy. Ob, yes,— we all came in 
together. 

Sack. They all came in together to intercede with me for 
those they love best, to save them from the certain destruc- 
tion which awaited them at my hands. Miss Virginia ex- 
claimed to me — " Oh, Robert, you will not meet Frank 
Littlefield ; you will not risk a life that has become so dear 
t» me. I have learned to lovs Frank Littlefield," 

Van. Ah ! ahem ! 

Littlefield. My dear Virginia. 

Virg. Frank {c7'osses to hiiu). 

Sack. Take her, Littlefield ; make her happy. I give 
you both my blessing. Fll be your brother-in-law. {Turns 
to Carter) Mr. Carter, I owe you an apology and an ex- 
planation. Mrs. Carter entered my room to-day to plead 
for your safety only. {Takes Lucy's hand) Take her. Carter, 
in all her blushing loveliness {passes her to Carter^Fred 
receives her). 

Carter. Devil take that boy. (Lucy slaps Fred, and 
runs to Carter.) 

Sack, {coming l. c). Ahem ! Miss Effie. 

Effie (r. c). Ahem ! Robert,— you may ask papa. 

Sack. My dear Mr. Remington 

Old Rkm. (r. c). 1 think it's rather late in the day to 
ask papa. (Effie and Sack embrace.) 

VVeth. (r.). Ahem, I say. Sir Mortimer, there are as good 
fiish in the sea as ever was caught {goes up ). 

Sir M. (r.). I don't think I'll tish any more in American 
waters. These American girls are the most auaccountable 
creatures. 

Enter Ben. and Mrs. A. arm in arm, L. 2. a Ben. 
leading her L. C. 

Sack. Hallo ! an unconditional surrender. 



C8 SAEATOGA. [aCT 5. 

Ben. (l. c). Certainly ; that is the regular thing, Bob. 

Mrs. a. What could I do ] The man was perfectly out- 
rageous. The more I silenced him the more he talked. I 
capitulated for the sake of peace. I have exacted one con- 
dition, however. Whenever he needs a "surgeon'' again, 
^■c: must call on me. Oh, her& is my lace shawl. I was 
wondering where I left it. {Takes shawl from Van.'s arm. 
Sensation.) 

Van. Ah— then you are Mr. Sackett's aunt. 

Old R. Egad, all the women in the house have been here. 

Mrs. a. Mr. Sackett's aunt ! 

Carter. You were more than a mother to him. 

Mrs. a I — more than a mother to Mr. Sackett ! — I've 
never been anything of the kind to anybody. 

Sack. But here's a little woman, wlio will be more than a 
mother to me — more than a sister — brother— cousin — uncle — 
aunt — more than a mother-in-law— more than all the world 
beside — my wife. {To audience) Ladies and gentlemen— 
when I was a very little boy 

Effie. There — never mind when you were a very little 
boy 

Sack. Young gentlemen, whenever you find a lady in 
your arms or your heart 

Effie. Allow her to " remain in the place iu which she 
originally fell." 

CU&TAUk 




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